


Insomnia

by Yods



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Foggy worries, Gen, Karen doesn't know, Mental Breakdown, Mild Language, Nightmares, Not Season/Series 02 Compliant, Post-Season/Series 01, Reconciliation, everything goes to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6834178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yods/pseuds/Yods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Symptoms of prolonged sleep deprivation can include psychosis, paranoia, extremely high energy levels, hallucinations, aggression and more.</em></p><div class="center"><p><em>Psychiatric Care of the Medical Patient; 

Barry S. Fogel, Donna B. Greenberg</em></p></div>
<p></p><p> </p><p> <br/>Everything is going well at Nelson & Murdock after Matt's Daredevil reveal, but Foggy still has trouble coping.  It would help if he could get some sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the interest of transparency - the book mentioned in the summary is a real one, but it doesn’t contain that specific quote. That’s paraphrased from WebMD.

Early morning sunshine was streaming past a crack in the blinds, a slice of pressing heat across his neck and shoulder. Foggy had kicked off the blankets but there were still beads of sweat running down his sides. The alarm clock finally started shrieking at him. He swatted at it but didn’t move any more than necessary. At least the air-conditioning at the office worked. Last week when the heat wave started they’d fiddled with it long enough that it finally started doing something, and now none of them dared to touch the settings in case it gave up again. With this hopeful thought in mind he dragged himself out of bed and got ready to go in.

  


  


~

  


  


Blissfully cool air enveloped him as he opened the door. Karen must have come in early and put the AC on. The woman was a saint.

  


“Good morning to the glorious Ms Page.” She wasn’t at her desk.

  


“Morning Foggy.” She called from the kitchenette, “Would you like some coffee?”

  


Foggy cringed. “No thanks, I got some on the way in.”

  


A brief silence followed this statement. “You know, if you don’t like my coffee you can just say so.”

  


“I’m pretty sure we have. At length. Multiple times.”

  


Karen tried to glare at him as she returned to her desk. “By the way, Matt called. Says he’ll be a bit late.”

  


“Again.”

  


“Again” she agreed.

  


Then there was this new problem in Foggy’s life. Does ‘running a bit late’ mean Matt overslept due to his night-job, or does ‘running a bit late’ mean he’s recuperating from some ridiculous injury which he’ll pretend is no big deal? Idiot.

  


At least he called. Not calling when ‘running a bit late’ could still mean either of those two, but includes the heart-stopping possibility that he’s bled to death in an alleyway somewhere. Foggy’s mind skitters from the prospect. 

  


He starts half-heartedly distracting himself with work – they actually had work now. Apparently being involved in the downfall of someone like Fisk creates some name-recognition. 

  


  


It’s an hour before Matt strolls into the office, apparently unbothered by the heat, and apparently uninjured. ‘A bit late.’ Asshole

  


Foggy swallows the flash of annoyance. As if he didn’t worry about Matt enough before he knew he was back-flipping off buildings.

  


“Matt, buddy, I know one of the advantages of having your own law firm is not having to worry about getting fired, but it does help if the partners are actually present during office hours.”

From the corner of his eye he notices Karen looking up and tensing slightly.

  


Matt paused, cocking his head slightly and almost managing to look contrite. “You’re right. I really should make a point of being here on time. I’m just not a morning person.” Says the nerd who used to get up at 4 am to study.

  


Before Foggy can rib on this he notices Karen relax at Matt’s reply. “What?” he asks. 

  


Matt frowns “What…?” Foggy rolls his eyes. “Not you, Karen.”

  


She looks up guiltily “What?”

  


“Well this isn’t going in circles at all.”

  


“I still don’t know what you asking.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and fiddled with the documents on her desk.

  


“ _What_ is with you being so invested in a conversation about office hours.”

  


The fiddling became more pronounced. “Umm” She appeared to reach a decision. “I just don’t want you two to fall out again. Things have been really good lately.”

  


Foggy glances over to Matt, who schools his expression into seriousness before turning sternly to Karen. “And you think I’m likely to start an argument just because Foggy says that getting to work on time might be a good thing?”

  


Karen looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or not “I’m reserving the right to not answer that.”

  


Matt´s poker-face starts to wobble. 

  


Foggy seizes the opportunity to butt in. “Besides, even if we do have a disagreement, you can know Mommy and Daddy still love each other a lot.”

  


Matt snorted inelegantly. Karen however does manage to keep from laughing, raises her eyebrows in query. “And who exactly is Mommy in this scenario?” 

  


“Umm, Matt, buddy, some help here, please.”

  


Matt somehow perfectly copies Karen´s questioning look but ruins it by grinning. “Actually I’d like to know where you’re going with this.” 

  


“Now you’re just ganging up on me. It’s a bad sign for our fledgling law firm that you pick the side of staff over your partner.”

  


Karen has excellent poker-face. ”Oh I’m just ‘staff’ now am I.”

  


Foggy stammers incoherently but is rescued by Matt. “It’s more that I’m sensible enough to pick Karen’s side in absolutely any argument.” 

  


Karen’s expression goes dangerous as she turns to face Matt. Her voice is flat. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  


Matt’s eyes widen in alarm behind his glasses but before he can dig himself in any deeper Foggy makes eye contact with Karen and they simultaneously start laughing. He look mutinous for a moment before joining in.

  


Almost instantly there is pounding on the wall from the finance office about the noise.

  


“Yes, we’re all real professionals here, I’m sure they can tell.”

  


  


~

  


  


By the afternoon they had given in and were braving Karen´s coffee, both of them working on the Hoffman case in the conference room. A pause in the familiar clicking of Matt’s braille reader makes Foggy look up. Matt had his head cocked, a slight frown on his face. Foggy would never admit to anyone that he privately used to call this the spaniel look. Now he knew better of course. Now he knew that was the ‘weird and intrusive listening to something he shouldn’t’ look. “Neighbours too loud?” he whispered. Matt looked briefly puzzled. “No. There are a couple of cops coming up the stairs.”

  


“How do you know they’re cops?”

  


The spaniel look became more intense. “They’re definitely armed – I can smell gun-shot residue and oil – and…”

  


“You can sense guns?”

  


“Well yes, I made sure I learnt to. It’s good to know if someone might be shooting at me.” As though this was self-evident.

  


“Well it’s good to hear you’re at least trying to not get shot. We wouldn’t what that.” 

  


Whatever smart-ass reply Matt might have had to this is interrupted by a knock on the door. From the conference room he can see Karen carefully smooth down her dress before opening.

  


“Can I help you, ” she falters when she sees who it is “…officers?”

  


“Ah, Miss Page. I remember you.” Karen does not look pleased by this at all. “I take it Nelson and Murdock are in as well?”

  


Foggy favours Matt with a brief look of worry before he goes into full defence mode. “Yes we are. How can I help you?” Matt says, sounding as unhelpful as possible.

  


“We would just like the three of you to come down to the station with us to answer a few questions.”

  


Well that doesn’t sound at all ominous.

  


“This really isn’t a good time.” The officers didn’t seem very concerned with this. “May I ask what this is in relation to?”

  


“This is _in relation to_ your relationship with the daredevil.

  


Foggy’s heart begins to race. This can’t be good.

  


Matt hesitates for a moment. “Well it would be our civic duty to assist you with your inquiries.” 

  


Cocky smart-ass. Foggy was _not_ looking forward to finding out whether he was any good at straight up lying to the police.

  


  


~

  


  
They arrived at the police station in silence, Matt and Foggy both squirming but unwilling to say anything the officers might overhear. Thank God Karen didn’t have anything to hide, although she seemed just as uncomfortable with the situation as they did. 

  


At the station the officers split them up to go to different interrogation rooms.

  


Shit, this really was serious. Foggy thinks quickly and says, under his breath, as softly as he can: “Stall them and listen to how I answer the questions so we keep our story straight.”

  


Matt favoured him with a small smirk before entering the interrogation room. Good, he’d heard. Now for the lying part.

  


  


It turns out he needn’t have worried. They didn’t know or even seem suspect anything.

  


When and where had the daredevil told them Fisk was looking for Hoffman? He told them the date. “We were on our way from our office to Josie’s.” he said, possibly a bit too loudly. Would Matt hear him? “That’s the only time I’ve ever had contact with the guy. I don’t know what else you want me to tell you.”

  


“It did not occur to you to inform the police that a wanted criminal made contact with you?”

  


“Given the state of the police department at the time I don’t see what good it would have done.” Foggy snapped. The expression on the officer’s face soured, but he didn’t respond.

  


“Did Hoffman tell you anything about his meeting with daredevil?”

  


“Anything Detective Hoffman told us is covered by attorney-client privilege, but as it happened he did not mention the devil at all.”

  


“And Mr Murdock later gave him Hoffmann’s location.” 

  


“Matt was on the way to the station to tell one of you where Hoffman was when he was waylaid by the devil. That’s it.”

  


“That’s it?”

  


“Yeah, that’s it.”

  


And that, apparently, was it. The let him go and he went to join a positively belligerent Karen in the lobby to wait for Matt. After a while a cop, almost as irritated as Karen, arrived with a smug looking Matt in tow.

  


“That was all we’ll need from you for now. Thank you for your _cooperation_.” He glared at Matt. 

  


Matt gave him a brilliant smile in return. “No trouble at all, officer.”

  


Karen herded them outside before a squabble could break out. Matt took his arm as they walked through the door. He valiantly resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs. This wasn’t Matt’s fault, not really. Just some leftover intimidation tactics about the Fisk case.

  


At any rate Matt was still looking spectacularly pleased with himself. “Well, this day’s a bust. What should we do?”

  


The ferocity in Karen’s posture was fading. “I could use a drink.”

  


Matt considers this for a moment. “Josie’s it is. Great idea. We should play pool.” Karen and Foggy share a look.

  


Karen starts to grin. “Loser buys.”

  


  


~

  


  
They end up getting way too jovially drunk for Josie to let them anywhere near the pool table. The air in the bar was sticky with too many bodies breathing too close to one another. They had to shout to make themselves heard. Foggy sweated in his suit, almost resenting the heat of Matt’s arm across his shoulders as he leant in to make a joke. Matt never got this handsy unless he was drunk. 

  


“This is great and all, but Josie’s going to cut us off soon and we still need to be able to work tomorrow. Besides, it’s stifling in here.”

  


Matt and Karen groan and complain but gather their things, Matt grasping clumsily for his cane. They stumble laughing through the door, the bell ringing them out. A cool night breeze cut through the oppressive heat of the day. All was well with the world.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I first watched Daredevil this story started knocking around in my head and wouldn’t leave me alone. I figured I should write it down in an attempt to exorcise it, but decided to write something simpler first just to get some practice, considering I haven’t written anything since high school which was *cough* a long time ago. And now I’m finally putting this down but it’s still a mess. Anyway, here goes, I’ve been sitting on it for too long.  
> Also, dialogue is hard.


	2. Wolf

It had been a recurring dream for a long time.  
  
Way back when, one of the popular kids suddenly started hanging out with him. He didn’t really like that crowd, but a nerdy, overweight theatre kid couldn’t really turn down the hand of friendship. Besides, Jared was hot, not that he would have put it that way to himself at the time.  
  
The dream always started at the same point.  
One day in the cafeteria, after Jared had been hanging around long enough for Foggy to get used to him being there, Foggy saw him approach and scooted over to give him a place to sit without thinking much of it. Jared didn’t sit down though, he just stood there over him, a little too close. Foggy looked up in sudden alarm.

  


“You think I’m going to sit with you? I mean, you already did my homework. Did you actually think we were friends? Come on dude, that’s just pathetic.”

  


His voice was loud with bravado. Everyone started laughing. A few looked way, embarrassed. Jared joined in the laughter and went over to his usual crowd. 

  


“Fuck you, asshole.” Foggy called after him, just a moment too late. He was aware that his voice cracked as he said it, but at least he didn’t start crying. It shouldn’t have bothered him – he didn’t even like the guy.  
The laughter went on for too long. 

  


He hadn’t dreamt about it for quite a while. This time, though, it was different. It wasn’t Jared jeering at him in the cafeteria, it was _Matt_.

  


_“…Did you actually think we were friends? Come on, you had to know that was just an act.”_

  


Matt tilted his head at him and gave a sneering grin. There was something dangerous in his posture. Foggy couldn’t believe he used to compare that look to a spaniel. That was no spaniel. That was a fucking wolf. Matt took a step forward. There was no-one else in the cafeteria to laugh, and Foggy suddenly wished he wasn’t sitting there alone. He would have felt safer in a crowd.

  


He can see Matt decide what to do next by the flash of dark amusement in his face. Foggy looked up at him in alarm.

  


…and startled awake as the alarm screeches at him. His heart was racing. _Deep breaths, just calm down._ It was typical, really. He finally manages to fall asleep and his subconscious tortures him with Junior High throwbacks. Ridiculous. He hadn’t even thought about it in ages.

  


He sat up with a groan. He already had a headache and the sheets were clammy with sweat, the room suffocatingly hot. He didn’t know why he was even bothering to go to bed lately, he wasn’t getting any rest anyway.

  
  


~

  


Foggy jumped when Matt walked into the office – the dream was still echoing in his head.  


  


Matt had the beginning of a bruise on his jaw and looked somehow pleased with himself.

  


“You fall down taking out the trash again?”

  


Matt grinned. Wolf, Foggy’s subconscious supplied and his heart skipped a beat.

  


The grin faded and Matt cocked his head. _Wolf_

  


“You OK buddy?” 

  


Foggy shook his head to dislodge the ridiculousness running circles there. “Just been having bad dreams.”

  


“Want to talk about it?”

  


“I really don’t.”

  


For a moment it looked like Matt was going to say something, but he just gave a small smile and walked off to his office.

  


“Want some coffee?”

  


Foggy shook off the last uneasiness. “Please”

  


By the time Karen arrived they were both drinking coffee and going through the Hoffman deposition. Matt stretched back in the chair, hands behind his head. 

  


“Mmm, Karen’s coming up.” 

  


He couldn’t help giving him a sharp look. “How can you tell it’s her?”

  


Matt licked his lips. He could tell that he suddenly didn’t want to say. He didn’t really want to know either. “Umm… I.. Her perfume, shampoo. The way she breathes. The sound of her footsteps and the way her clothing moves as she walks. It’s all pretty distinctive once you know someone.”

  


“That’s….kind of creepy and intrusive.”

  


He huffed in annoyance. “I can’t help the way I sense the world, Foggy”

  


“I’m pretty sure you can help the weird stalkery shit.”

  


Whatever response Matt might have had was interrupted by Karen bumping open the door with her hip, a stack of files in her arms.

  


Foggy jumped up, eager to escape the conversation. “Here, let me help you with that.”

  


“No thanks, I’ve got this.” She manoeuvred sideways to put the files down but the stack tilted and files and loose pages slid across the desk before she could catch them. Matt raised his eyebrows and bit back a grin.

  


“Crap!... I almost got this?“ She tucked her hair behind her ears with both hands.

  


 

They had re-sorted the files and were working on a petition for a new client when they were interrupted by an ominous coughing sound.

  


Foggy froze. “Was that the AC?”

  


There was a very definite sound of a fan winding down. They all paused in horror. Karen tilted her chair to lean back and give it a resounding thump. The fan revved back up to speed.

  


Karen grinned at them triumphantly. “…About that raise…”

  


As it happens the AC finally sputtered and died about half an hour later.

  
  


~

  


Foggy and Karen ended up at Josie’s for the second time that week. Matt was going to join them later. He had something to take care of first. He said this so ominously that Foggy was sure _something_ was actually _someone_ and that this someone was not going to be happy with being taken care of.  


The small TV behind the bar was tuned to the news, the sound too low to follow. A round-faced moustachioed man was talking earnestly. Foggy ignored him but the scrolling text caught his attention.

  


_…daredevil shot and killed. Police say…”_

  


Foggy blinked. He couldn’t breathe. 

  


“No”

  


Karen’s voice was far away. “Foggy, what’s wrong?”

  


“No” he gasped. He was hyperventilating and he couldn’t catch his breath. There was a buzzing in his head. 

  


Karen was trying to get his attention but it didn’t seem important.

  


Distantly he could hear the bell on the door. When he looked up Matt was standing at the bar, talking to Josie. He rushed over to him, frantic. “Matt!”

  


Matt looked over and grinned. And that did it. That wolf grin; putting himself in danger and then grinning as though it didn’t mean anything. Foggy swung a wild punch and was astonished when he knocked Matt down.

  


The buzzing in his ears stopped and the sudden stunned silence in the bar was deafening. Matt gaped at him from the floor, his lip bleeding.

  


“What the hell, Foggy?” Karen shoved passed him to get to Matt.

  


Everyone was staring, muttering. Karen fussed over Matt, who was still sitting on the ground.

  


Foggy turned around and stumbled off. The men’s room was empty and relatively quiet. He leant against the smooth tiles and gradually slid to the ground. The tiles were cool against his back. Maybe he could catch his breath now. 

  


It felt like just a moment until the door opened. There was blood on Matt’s shirt. He paused for a moment and then walked over and sat down next to him, wrinkling his nose.

  


“What’s going on, Foggy?”

  


Foggy took an unsteady breath. “I… there was something on the news about Daredevil, and… and I thought… and then you were... ” To his dismay he realised he was crying. He pulled up his knees and dropped his face into his arms. “Sorry” He still couldn't breathe properly.

  


Matt patted him awkwardly on the back.

  


He heard the door open. Karen’s voice was soft. “Hey, guys…?”  
He felt what was probably a shrug from Matt.

  


“Um, OK. I’ll be just outside.” She closed the door again, gently.

  


He kept on studying the grimy floor tiles. Wondered what the smell must be like with Matt’s senses. The hand on his back was now rubbing small circles. He hiccoughed. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I thought… I… don’t even know what I thought. I haven’t been sleeping well.” 

  


The hand on his back stilled. Even against the cool of the tiles the heat of a body next to him was more than was comfortable. He shifted away, just an inch. Matt withdrew his hand. He instantly missed it.

  


Foggy tried to speak more calmly. “I’m actually surprised I managed to hit you. Although I guess it would be suspicious if you didn’t let the punch land.” There was still a touch of bitterness there.

  


“You caught me by surprise.” His voice was quiet.

  


Foggy huffed in disbelief.

  


Matt looked hurt. “I’m not _on_ all the time Foggy. I can’t be on the alert for a threat every waking hour. And I certainly wasn’t expecting _you_ to attack me.” 

  


Foggy swallowed heavily and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Matt.” He felt wretched. “How’s your face?”

  


There was a hint of a smile before he flinched and licked his lip. “I’ve had worse.” 

  


Foggy sniffed, trying to keep is voice level. “Not funny. I really wish you’d take up a safer hobby. Base-jumping or something.”

  


“I already do that. Just without a parachute.”

  


“Ugh, not funny, Matt.”

  


Matt stood up smoothly and held out his hand. “Come on.”

  


Foggy took his hand and let himself be dragged to his feet. “The people in the bar must have a lot to say about me randomly punching a blind guy. It probably looked bad.” He tries for levity.

  


“Karen certainly had a lot to say.” 

  


Foggy groaned.

  


“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get you home. You need to get some sleep.”

  


~

  


Once again Foggy is walking down the stairs into Matt’s apartment. He doesn’t remember it being this cold. What he does remember is the prickling fear. Knowing something was terribly wrong and dreading what he was going to find. It’s about as dark as he remembers. He’s already shivering uncontrollably – was that the cold or fear? He shuffles carefully further into the room and almost trips over something lying in the doorway to Matt’s bedroom. Someone. Matt.  


As before Matt is lying on his back, motionless. Foggy’s fear skips into panic, a vice pressing on his chest. It wasn’t like before. Matt wasn’t wearing the mask. His eyes were open, unfocused and unblinking. Motionless. Foggy can’t breathe at all. This was wrong. This wasn’t what happened. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He couldn’t move. He needed to call an ambulance. He shouldn’t call an ambulance. He needed to do _something_. But he was terrified and he couldn’t move. Suddenly the strings keeping him standing snapped and he collapsed, finally able to breathe. His knees hit Matt’s ribcage as he falls, forcing out a grunt of breath. And then silence. His hands meet cold, sticky, partially congealed blood on Matt’s chest. Cold and motionless. He couldn’t see how much blood there was on Matt’s black shirt in the darkness. Maybe that was the point. His thoughts are skittering frantically.

  


There are soft footsteps behind him. Foggy jumps to his feet, turning so rapidly that he almost trips over Matt on the ground. And at the foot of the stairs stands Matt, as he remembers him from college. Nerdy Matt with a crooked smile, looking painfully young and innocent. Not all sharp edges like he had become.

  


“Foggy, what’s wrong?” 

  


Foggy stood there, shivering with cold, completely unable to grasp what was going on.

  


He gestured to the figure on the ground. “Matt, you’re d...” He tried to explain but he couldn’t say the word. There was a cold, hard lump in his throat and he couldn’t say the word. It wasn’t true anyway. Clearly. Matt was standing right _there_.

  


“Foggy, you know that’s not true. That guy’s not me. He’s a violent psycho. That’s not me.”

  


Foggy’s heart leapt to his throat, freezing. He almost couldn’t say it. “I know you’re lying to me, buddy.”

  


“You’re my friend Foggy. I would never lie to you.” Matt looked _right at him_ , full of sincerity. It hurt.

  


“Foggy?” Matt took a couple of steps towards him, hands out. Pleading. And Foggy decided to believe him. It was all better if it was true. It was going to be true. He stood there for a moment, and then stepped forward for a hug, desperate for the reality of a warm body.

  


But there was no-one there. That Matt wasn’t real. Never had been. Foggy stood there, abruptly alone in the bitter cold, and turned around. Matt was on the ground where he had left him, cold and still. He was somehow wearing the light grey suit he’d worn yesterday, soaked with blood. His mind gibbered at him. Surely you couldn’t lose that much blood and survive? That didn’t make any sense.

  


It was then that he became aware of the stickiness between his fingers.

  


Foggy woke up, bathed in sweat. For the briefest fraction of a second the sweltering heat of his apartment was a relief, and then the knot in his throat loosened and he vomited. 

  


He couldn’t get back to sleep that night.

  
  
  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foggy is a bit stressed. That news report was about some Evel Knievel type getting shot by an ex.
> 
> Next chapter is going to be Karen POV.


	3. Snarl

It was still very early, the streets were relatively quiet and Karen’s shadow stretched out eagerly in front of her. There was just hint of the night’s coolness in the air that would be burnt away as soon as the sun got a bit higher. A taxi rumbled past, destroying the peace.  
With any luck it wouldn’t be too hot in the office yet, and she could get some much needed work done before the guys show up.

  
  


~

  
  


There was a rummaging and muttering coming from the conference room. Karen froze, purse half-way shrugged off her shoulder. An intruder wouldn’t make that much noise. She cautiously approached the door and peered around.  


Foggy was sitting on the floor surrounded by fragments of the dismantled AC.

  


“Hi?”

  


“Oh, hey. Hi, good morning!“ Foggy was trying to pry some something off with a screwdriver. His tie was loosened and his sleeves rolled to the elbows. “So I called a repairman and he told me it would take at least a week before someone could come over and take a look at this thing and I will literally go insane if we have to sit in this heat for so long so I figured I should try and get it fixed myself but not having any luck so far. Pass me the wrench?” This was all said in one breath. 

  


Karen warily handed over the wrench. The attempted prying-loose continued with considerably more force. “The AC repairman is open this early?”

  


“No, not really, the first few times I called no-one picked up and after that when he did he spent a while just cussing me out but eventually it turned out that they’re really busy and no bribe I could convincingly deliver on could make him change his mind. Don’t think he really likes me.”

  


The door to the office opens behind them. “Morning,” Matt called out. Foggy jumped and dropped the wrench.

  


“Morning,” Karen replied, still eyeing Foggy doubtfully.

  


Matt stepped over to the conference room door. She can sense the brush of his body just behind her. “What’s going on?”

  


“Foggy’s fixing the AC.”

  


Matt smiles at them both. “That sounds good. Is it working?”

  


Karen surveys the pieces scattered across the floor. “…Uhh…”

  


“Well I thought it was just an electrical short at first but I checked most of the wires and they seem fine and then I thought maybe it’s the fan itself which it turns out does need some oil but that's not the problem so now I’m checking the motor to see wat’s going on there but I can’t get this cap off to get a look in there. So…”

  


A silence follows this. Karen made a brief futile attempt to catch Matt’s eye. “You’re unusually chipper considering the hour.”

  


“I’ve been up for a while and my apartment is an absolute oven at the moment so I figured we’d all be better off if I can get the AC working again and at least open the windows so it can air out in here a bit, but I got distracted here and forgot to open the windows so that was pretty pointless.” 

  


Matt frowned. “Did you actually get some sleep?”

  


Foggy kept his eyes on the AC. “….yes?”

  


“I going to take that as meaning ‘no’.”

  


Foggy ignores this in favour of giving another tug on the wrench and something snaps, followed by a hollow clunk as it falls inside the AC. “Fuck, well that was useless, we’re just going to have to wait for the repairman, let’s get some actual work done, we’ve wasted enough time just standing around here.” He stands up wiping his hands on his trousers and goes over to his office. An unidentifiable AC part crunches underfoot.

  


Karen puts her hand on Matt’s shoulder before he can go after him. She can feel the body-heat through his suit jacket. “Is it just me or is Foggy acting really weird?”

  


Matt pauses and jostles against her. “He’s definitely being weird.”

  


“What was actually going on last night?”

  


“… I don’t really know. I think he’s … stressed about something.”

  


Something. Why can’t they just talk to her? “Something that you two aren't telling me about.”

  


Matt worries at his split lip with his teeth. He is bizarrely unbothered by being punched in the face. “Karen..”

  


“Look, if you don’t want to tell me…“

  


Foggy suddenly leans in the door. “What are you two talking about?” He gives Matt a remarkably dirty look.

  


Matt sidesteps this. “Why don’t you come spend the night at my place?”

  


“You aren’t even going to buy me a drink first?”

  


Matt rolled his eyes. “I’ve bought you plenty of drinks. Don’t be difficult, Foggy. My apartment stays relatively cool – high ceilings and all. You could get some sleep.”

  


“I remember the last time I spent the night at your place. Wasn’t very comfortable _at all_.” Foggy said with astonishing viciousness. Matt grimaced and turned away. What on earth were they on about?

  


She took a deep breath. “OK! Well! I’ve got a really comfortable couch. And an AC. I’ll even buy you a drink if you want. Come on, Foggy, you’ve been really frazzled lately. We’re worried about you.” 

  


“So you were talking about me.” _Shit_ “OK, I know I’ve been a bit edgy. I’m working on it.” He glanced at Matt. “But I’m fine. Really. I’m not even tired. Let’s just get some work done, shall we?”

  


Matt seemed to consider how to respond, head tilted. Foggy inhaled sharply. Matt seemed to deflate at this, “Sure, we have a lot to do,” and retreated to his office.

  
  


~

  
  


Karen yawned expansively. Foggy seemed to be attempting to work straight through the night, and there was no way she was leaving him alone with how erratic he was being recently. Matt had stayed until record late as well, and things had almost become the familiar comfort between the three of them. It had only been once Matt had disappointingly decided to go home, saying he had things to take care of, that Foggy had started to tense up again.  


“Maybe you should head home.” Foggy looked at her pointedly across the desk. The yawn had been unmissable. Damn.

  


“We should both be heading home. The rest of this can wait until tomorrow.” Foggy looked unconvinced. She thought quickly. “And it’s actually relatively nice out at the moment. Maybe we should just go take a walk and clear our heads.” And maybe she could just happen to steer him home.  
“A walk actually sounds quite good. Let’s do that.”

  


The roasting heat of the day had abated to an almost pleasant humid stuffiness. The normal street sounds seemed quieter than usual. Foggy was nattering away about nothing much, good humoured. She tried to watch him surreptitiously. He was paler than usual. She smiled at his story. It was a nice night.

  


Then he lower his voice and leans in. “Is it just me or are they following us?” 

  


“What?” More paranoia? She looked around. There are two drunk and heavyset guys shortly behind them. How had she missed that? “Shit”

  


“Shit” Foggy says agreeably. The both increase their pace. “Do you still carry pepper-spray?”

  


This couldn’t be happening gain. “Always”

  


“Where are you running off to, sweatheart?” a voice calls from just behind them. His buddy snickers. 

  


She half-turns stupidly. A rough hand grabs her by the arm and jerks her back. Where was the mace? She froze. From this close she could see acne scars on the guy’s cheek.

  


“Hey!” Foggy tries to get between her and scarface.

  


“This doesn’t concern you dude” his buddy slurs. The grip on her arm is painful.

  


“Like hell it doesn’t.” Foggy steps in. And immediate gets knocked down. This breaks the spell of fright. Her free hand lands on the mace without hesitation and then scarface is gasping and choking, but…

  


“Bitch” Someone knocks her against the wall, harsh hands at her throat and the world blacks out for a moment. She can hear violent scuffling, Foggy’s voice “…get off her…” and then…  
  
…she can breathe. Foggy is gently helping her back to her feet. There’s blood running down the side of his face. “Shit. Karen, are you OK?” He’s breathing heavily. They both are. The sound of violence continues unabated. She looks over his shoulder and he turns to see what she’s looking at.

  


Scarface is already down for the count. Daredevil is facing his buddy, who backs off, eyes wide. Buddy takes a panicked swing which misses by a mile. He gets knocked down by a single blow and Daredevil is on him, beating him, _snarling_. Something cracks sickeningly but he doesn’t stop. Just keeps on hitting him. Buddy isn’t moving.

  


“Stop that!” Foggy sounded panicked

  


Daredevil spins around in a crouch, teeth bared. She can’t help but recoil. Foggy backs up, arm held out as if to shield her. For a moment there is complete silence. Then Daredevil rises to his feet looking almost shocked and disappears into the shadows so suddenly it was almost as if he was never there in the first place.

  


They both stand there in stunned silence. She somehow still has the can of mace in her hand. “We should leave before they wake up.”

  


“We should call the police. I don’t think those guys are going to be waking up anytime soon.”

  


Foggy made the call. And then they just stood there for a while. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. 

  


She wanted to break the silence somehow. Or for Foggy to ask her how she was doing and cheer her up like he always did. But Foggy looked like he was moments away from bursting into tears and she didn’t know what to say.

  


Foggy finally sighed and gave her a sideways look. “I’ve never actually seen him in action before. Didn’t think it would be so… You’ve seen him before?”

  


“Yeah, but that was a fight. This…this was a massacre.”

  


Foggy apparently has nothing to say to this. They wait in sticky, humid silence. The two drunks stay unconscious.

  
  


~

  
  


It is a relief when the police and paramedics show up, everyone sweating through their uniforms. They end up giving a statement which isn’t more detailed than ‘they followed us, they attacked us, Daredevil rescued us.’.  


The older of the two policemen frowns at Foggy. “You’re that lawyer, aren't you.”

  


“Well, I’m definitely _a_ lawyer. Defender of the innocent and such.” Foggy seems almost back to his usual up-beat self. 

  


“The _innocent_. Right. Like that scumbag Healy?” The cop looks at him scornfully. He looks familiar. It might be the one that questioned Matt a couple of days ago.

  


“OK, he was very guilty.” Foggy gives him a charming grin. It makes no impact. She has to hide an echoing smile behind her hand. 

  


The cop remains stone-faced. “At least he isn’t on the streets anymore, no thanks to you.”

  


“You arrest him again?”

  


“No, he turned up very gruesomely dead. Seems like someone wanted to ask him a couple of pointed questions, if you know what I mean?” His partner laughs.

She has a sudden vision of a man with a knife closing in on her in her apartment.

  


“And, _if_ he talked he’s probably better off dead anyway. You don’t spill on Fisk and live to tell the tale.” He continued, warming to the story.

  


Healy worked for Fisk? And how does this guy know that? “You seem very well informed.” The cop turned to her, back to a stone-faced glare. 

  


“I am a police officer. And we’re done here. You two can go home. And don’t go wandering around in the early hours of the morning in future.”

  


A clear dismissal. What was he hiding?

  
  


~

  
  


Foggy was quiet and tense on the way back. “Why did we take the Healy case again?”

  


Where was this coming from? “I don’t know. Money? Didn’t Matt end up deciding we should take it?”

  


“Mmm” Foggy was looking even more upset than before.

  


“Look, I’m going to go home and see if I can still get some sleep. Will you be OK?”

  


“Sure. Good night Karen.”

  


  


As she went home to sooth her bruises in a hot bath she had no way of knowing that instead of going home, Foggy went to Josie’s to ask Clint Peterson where to get a gun. The night was still young, after all.

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you write a scene with unnamed characters you have to refer to multiple times? Apart from giving them nicknames or going ‘the shorter man’, ‘the blond man’, ‘the handsome man’? It all seems rather clumsy.


	4. Gun

It was almost morning. Foggy stared at the gun on his kitchen counter. What was he even doing? He’d been so scared and worried lately. _Of what, of who?_ And this was going to help how exactly? Matt was going to freak when he found out.

  


_Matt._ Matt was going to smell that he had a gun. If that wasn’t a disturbing thought…

  


Foggy hunted through the kitchen cabinets and ended up slipping the gun into a Ziploc bag. It made it look as though it was already gathered for evidence. And his sweaty fingerprints were all over it. He went to take a shower, trying to scrub the smell from his hands. _Out damn spot._

  


It all felt a bit better when he got out of the shower, until he walked into the kitchen and saw the gun in the ridiculous baggie on the counter. He stared at it.

  


On impulse he went looking for the peppermint essence he’d bought years ago to flavour cookies, and poured some into the bag. After some consideration he put some on his hands as well. That should take care of the gun-smell.  
They were right, he was being paranoid.

  


He picked up the sealed bag and held the gun. The bag was big and loose enough that he could still put his finger on the trigger. _What was he doing?_ He hid the damn thing in his sock drawer and went to work.

  
  


~

  
  
Matt was in the office uncharacteristically early. He was leaning against his desk and grimaced and wrinkled his nose when Foggy came in.  


“Hey, Foggy” he said softly.

  


“Morning” He knew his heart sped up in alarm when he saw him. Couldn’t help it.

  


Matt kept very still, as though he were trying not to spook him. He licked his lips – a nervous tick he’d always had. “Look, I know I freaked you out last night. Both of you. I’m sorry. It’s just… They hurt you. And Karen. And I… I didn’t…” Matt looked as though he wanted to step forward, but Foggy’s heart was still racing. He stayed where he was.  
“I should have kept it together better. I’m sorry. Are you OK?”

  


“You really scared me, Matt.” Matt just nodded, not bothering to defend himself. He always wore his emotions clear on his face. And Foggy could always read him.  
He had to do better. He had to put away the drama that was boiling in his head lately.  
  
Foggy steeled himself and stepped towards Matt. Forced himself past the panic tripping in his chest and clapped Matt on the shoulder. His hand was sweaty. “You were defending us. I get it.” He needed to get over this. He was his friend, first and foremost.  
His heart was still racing. 

  


He got a careful smile in return. No wolf grin. Just Matt.

  


There was a rummaging at the door and Karen came in. She was paler than usual. Matt instantly turned to her. “I heard what happened. Are you OK?” He gathered her into cautious hug.  
  
Foggy watched as Karen practically sagged against him in relief. He ignored the voice screaming in his head. _‘Don’t you touch her!’_

  


Matt immediately let her go with an awkward pat on the elbow. He must have noticed his reaction - there really was no hiding anything from him. Foggy felt halfway between ashamed at freaking out yet again and relief that Matt had taken the hint.

  


Karen sniffled and gave him a watery smile. “Morning Foggy.” She reached in to give him a hug too and then backed away laughing. “Wow, you reek of mint.”

  


“Yeah, I got it to flavour cookies. What do you think?” Not a lie, a misdirection. Would Matt notice?

  


“You bake?” Karen asked delightedly.

  


“He’s pretty good. Used to try to feed me up in college.” Matt looked fond. And apparently didn’t notice the omission. It made him feel a bit guilty. _Relieved_. 

  


“That’s because you used to live on coffee and crackers during exams and forget to eat.” Foggy felt a surge of affection. “I’ll bring some cookies tomorrow.”

  


Karen considered them both for a moment with her hands on her hips. “Well. That sounds good.” She was probably still worried about them getting along. Things could be so good between the three of them. He was just going to have to pretend to be OK until it was true. He just had to not-think about the snarling animal he saw last night. To stop wondering about what had happened to Healy. To stop being afraid when he thought of the implications.

  
  


~

  
  
That night Foggy used the time he couldn’t sleep to make cookies as promised. With the oven on the apartment went from sweltering to unbearable. He could hardly breathe, he was sweating through his shirt. He’d thrown every window wide open in order to tempt in a breeze but it only let in the stink and the noise of the city.  


With the cookies finally cooling on a tray he left the kitchen a mass of spilt flour and sticky utensils, bowls and drips of raw dough and sank into the couch with his laptop and a blissfully cold beer.

  


The first page of hits for ‘Daredevil’ was mostly news – editorials on the ethics of vigilantism, taking down Fisk, some older stories about the bombings. There was also the video from the night of the bombings, which wasn’t any less horrifying now that the snarl was familiar. A couple of grainy photographs of what might be just a suspiciously shaped shadow. A fanpage with merchandise – he was never telling Matt about that, although he might buy him the official #1 fan mug with a curved devil’s tail for a handle. There were increasingly desperate press releases from the police asking for assistance with the ‘vigilante problem’. Testimonials from people he had saved - _I owe him my life but he is scary as fuck_. Complaints from people he had beaten into the hospital. Threats from the people close to them. Foggy’s insides were cold as he sweated into the couch.

  


After that came endless discussions about the identity of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Here was a whole different level of problem. If Matt got made he was going to end up in jail right next to him. It wouldn’t matter that he didn’t know at first. It wouldn’t matter that he didn’t approve. Matt had made this decision for the both of them.  
Foggy got a fresh beer and grimly started reading.

  


He sat there half the night, but it turns out the internet had no clue about who Daredevil is. There were some wild guesses about celebrities and disturbing obsessiveness about the shape of his lips, but nothing close to the truth. That was a relief, at least. Now he just had to worry about Matt getting caught, or injured, or _killed_ , or…

  


It was very late, and many beers later, by the time Foggy began on the more outlandish conspiracy sites. Daredevil was an actual demon and could only be defeated by holy water – Foggy snorted. Daredevil got rid of Fisk because he was competition and was now running the Hell’s Kitchen underworld – Matt was not that organised. Fisk’s people had a habit of disappearing or dropping dead when the devil was around – the Russians, Nobu, the Chinese, that smarmy eyebrows guy… _Heally_ , Foggy added.  
Another list of things (people, _bodies_ ) not to think about. This was ridiculous. He knew Matt, knew what he was capable of. He wasn’t dangerous. He wasn’t a _murderer_ …  
  
He was just an _attempted_ murderer who failed at the attempt, not for lack of trying.

  


Foggy shook himself to clear his head and went for a cold shower. It was time to go back to the office. The temperature was rising already.

  


In his bag, underneath a tin of cookies, he had hidden the gun.

  
  


~

  
  
He arrived shortly before Karen did, and ended up helping her wrangle the standing fan that she brought from home into the conference room. He’d just hidden the gun, wrapped in a shirt, in his desk drawer. Hopefully she hadn’t noticed how he jumped when she came in. They settled at the table, going through the agenda for the day. He was having trouble concentrating. Tension itched under his skin.  


When Matt came in he was limping slightly. Was he OK? How badly was he hurt? What had he _done_? Foggy tried to hide his panicked reaction from Karen. He didn’t know whether he was successful. Matt definitely noticed if his scowl was any indication.

  


He joined them in the conference room where the tin of cookies was open in the middle of the table. Foggy deliberately kept his distance - Matt was apparently in a bad mood. It didn’t take long for him to start grousing about how the scent was everywhere and they were going to be smelling cookies for days.

  


“That’s definitely a serious problem, Matt.” Karen said, not bothering to try to keep a straight face. Her hair was put up in a rough bun. She leaned over to take another cookie and he could see a bead of sweat running down the back of her neck. Karen very deliberately brushed the crumbs from her hands in front of the fan and then wiped them on the table. Matt raised his eyebrows at her in warning.

  


Foggy jerked to his feet, almost knocking his chair over. They both startled and turned to him. He hadn’t meant to do that. His pulse was racing again and the sweat wasn’t just from the heat. Every movement Matt made, every feral tilt of his head and smile that you couldn’t tell whether it reached his eyes just radiated _threat_. It was unbelievable that no-one else saw through the act. He kept on having to stop himself from warning Karen not to provoke him. 

  


They were still staring at him. He had to get out of there. “I…I’m going over to the police station to get the statement for the Macallan case.”

  


Matt kept considering him with that crooked wolf expression. He stood up. “I’ll come with you.”

  


“No!” By their reactions he’d said that too sharply. “No. There is still a lot to do here.”

  


Matt looked…hurt? He couldn’t tell. Foggy gathered his things and scurried away.

  
  


~

  
  
Getting the statement went far too quickly. After that he hung around at the station - there were a lot of people milling around, they probably wouldn't notice him. He wasn’t ready to go back to the office yet, although he knew they were talking about him, and he worried Matt might find the gun… But he couldn’t go back yet. At least he could breathe while he was here. He had to figure out what to do, how to make this stop.  


A voice behind him made him jump. “Well you look like shit.”

  


“Always great to see you too, Brett.” _Just go away and leave me alone._ But he was just coming off shift and apparently feeling chatty.

  


“Heard about what happened last night. You OK?”

  


“Your mom tell you to ask?” Trying to provoke him was possibly a bad idea.

  


“So pretty rattled, mmm? Never seen your boy in action before?”

  


“No. And he’s not my boy.” Why would he think he was rattled? He twitched as some kid in saggy pants shoved past him to get to the counter.

  


“Sure,” Brett said agreeably, “ but you’ve worked with him. He passed you information. Guess you never stopped to think how he got it.”

  


Foggy winced.

  


“I’m just saying. Know he’s a scary guy, but if you _do_ have any information on him you can give us… I mean, we could protect you if necessary.”

  


He rolled his eyes. “You’ll protect me from a guy who can take on half a dozen cops literally with both arms tied behind his back?” There was some kind of argument breaking out between the kid and the on-duty officer. Foggy tensed.

  


“Point taken.”

  


Then he remembered to add. “Besides, it’s a moot point. There’s nothing I can tell you.” From the corner of his eye he saw the kid throw up his hands in disgust and slouch off. He sagged in relief.

  


Brett looked at him intently for a while. “Never mind. I’m not even sure I want the guy to be caught.”

  


Foggy raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  


“Getting bad guys off the street as a cop is good and all, but getting to them before they actually get a chance to really hurt someone makes one hell of a difference. Even if it goes with a severe case of excessive force.” Brett’s expression twitched. “Just wish that was all he does.”

  


“What do you mean?” He was desperately trying to hide how invested he was in this conversation. The officer behind the desk was still grumbling to himself. No-one else seems to have been bothered by the argument.

  


“Catching someone in the act is one thing. Hunting someone down because of what they’ve done, or he thinks they’ve done… or beating someone for information because they’re bad enough or the information is important enough to make it worthwhile. That’s… something else.” 

  


He thought about Matt talking about going after Ellison again to find out if he was reporting to Fisk. Turns out Ellison was a good guy, but he would only have known that _after_ the beating.

  


“Just saying, we’re putting a lot of faith in this guy’s judgement. And his judgement might be a bit questionable.”

  


He'd normally be joking now, right? “I think a guy who backflips off buildings in fetish-wear per definition has questionable judgement.”

  


“I’m not talking about fashion choices here, Nelson. He’s beaten people into comas. Do you know how that goes? Let’s say you’re in a fight, and you’re hitting a guy. You win the fight, and you keep on hitting the guy. He’s on the ground, and you keep on hitting the guy. He’s unconscious, _and you keep on hitting the guy._ ” Foggy’s mouth was dry. “That doesn’t seem entirely stable. And we just have to trust that the people he’s targeting are sufficiently guilty? What happens when he decides that jaywalking deserves the death penalty?”

  


“He hasn’t killed anyone.” That we know of. Apart from Nobu – and that was self-defence…ish.

  


Brett raised his eyebrows. “He tell you that?”

  
  


~

  
  
Foggy went straight home from the police station. He couldn’t face Matt like this – sweating and heart pounding and winded. Besides, there was a lot to do at home. The kitchen was still a mess and there were empty beer bottles everywhere. He cleaned everything up, took the trash out and vacuumed the whole apartment. He even optimistically put clean sheets on the bed and ended up taking a long cool shower.  
All of which changed nothing, but at least he could procrastinate like a pro.  


He ended up on the couch with another beer, already sweating through the just-showered freshness. He had to think his way through this. He knew Matt. He could trust him – he’s always been able to trust him.

  


_He lied to your face for ten years._

  


He’s helping people.

  
_Matt’s always been good at rationalisation._

  


The violence is just a means to an end.

  


_Since when is that an ethical argument. You know better._ Matt _knows better. And he could do the same thing without beating people into comas._

  


The people he hurts deserve it.

  


_And_ he _gets to decide who deserves it? Based on what? Did the cops who tried to arrest him deserve it?_

  


What would happen if he tried to turn him in?

  


_What would happen if you tried to turn him in?_

  


He’s never killed anyone.

  


_…he says._

  


He lied to your face for ten years.

  


 

What did he know about Matt? That he was a unstoppable force of nature, of breath-taking brutality and terrifying grace. Who caused pain without regret. Who _enjoyed_ it, even. Who killed… _has killed? Would kill?_ Who couldn’t be lied to, who you can’t hide anything from. Foggy wanted to cry.  
He had to stop thinking about sweet, gentle Matt from college. That was a lie. An act. He knew what he had to do.

  
  


~

  
  
Foggy stood in his office, waiting. It was only three in the morning, but he had to be sure he was there first. He kept an eye out the window – he had the good view after all – waiting for someone to arrive.

  
  


~

  
  
Karen came in first. It was easy enough to snap at her. Some excuse. It didn’t matter. _revolting coffee…sick and tired…go get something halfway decent…_ She stormed off. His heart was still pounding but it hardly mattered now.  


  


He had everything planned out. He got the gun, still in the ridiculous baggie, from his drawer and gripped it, finger on the trigger, folding his jacket over his arm so it wasn’t visible. He leaned against his desk, door open, and waited for Matt to come in.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was going to be more to this chapter but it was already way too long so I split off the ending. This means that the next chapter will necessarily be jumping from FoggyPOV to KarenPOV halfway through.


	5. Tears

The door to the office opens and Foggy can hear the soft tap of Matt dropping his cane in the corner. He wasn’t in view yet, but it’s something he can picture perfectly, something he’d seen a hundred times. That tiny sound had been part of their daily soundtrack for so long. Foggy’s heart was pounding painfully and he has to keep blinking to stop his vision from tunnelling in. He was absolutely sure he had to do this but he couldn’t remember why.

  


Matt stepped into sight wearing that same light grey suit. And he just stared at him. This was it, just like he’d planned. The moment was set-up perfectly. He was shaking.

  


“Foggy?” Matt tilted his head, worried, frowning. _Wolf_  


He took the shot.

  


For a moment the world stopped. He was distinctly aware of the motes of dust hanging in the beam of yellow morning sunlight that came through the blinds. The swirling patterns were beautiful. He stared.

  


But then Matt _moved_ and he kept on firing. It didn’t seem possible that someone could move like that, flowing past bullets as though nothing could touch him. It didn’t seem human.  
Matt threw his briefcase and it knocked the gun from his hands. Sheets of paper were fluttering through the air and Matt stood in the middle of the storm, panting, _grimacing_. 

  


Fuck.  


After all of that, he’d missed? He’d been so sure.  


He was going to die.  
  
He sank to the ground, his back against his desk. His ears were ringing. Who knew gunshots were so _loud_?  


_He was going to die._

  


Matt’s mouth opened and closed as though he wanted to say something. Maybe he was. _He was going to die._

  


He made to step forward, _Foggy closed his eyes,_ and then Matt…coughed.

  


Foggy opened his eyes. 

  


He coughed again. It was such a small sound. He looked almost surprised at himself. It seemed like he couldn’t catch his breath.  
Matt frowned and tried to step towards him, but stumbles and lands on his knee, one hand propping him up. “Fff…?” His face twisted in pain. Foggy vividly remembered that expression from the terrible night he had to help Claire patch him up.  


The ringing in his ears was drowning everything out. “Matt?”

  


Matt’s whole body shuddered and his arm collapses under him. The grunt as he fell was the only sound Foggy could hear over the racket in his head.  
And then Matt just lay there on his side, body twisting helplessly, still trying to catch a breath. _No, no, no, no, no._

  


The door flew open and Karen ran in. There were coffee stains all down the front of her dress. He wondered distantly whether he should say something about that, but she probably wouldn’t be able to hear him over the ringing.  


She stopped short in the doorway, hands over her mouth, panting. Then she was shouting something at him as she rushed over to Matt, but it didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t tell was she was doing. Why was there suddenly so much blood on her hands?

  


At some point Karen must have rolled Matt over to his back. Someone should tell her that’s not a valid recovery position. Matt seemed to be trying to say something. Maybe he’ll tell her? She leant in just as he bucks painfully and he coughs a spray of blood into her face.  


Karen gasped and sputters, eyes wide. She raised a hand to wipe her face, but it was already covered in blood. Her breath was coming in gulps, hand flexing. She leant past Matt and spat, twice, blinking rapidly.

  


Foggy hoped he wasn’t laughing. The look on her face had been pretty funny. Suddenly there was a bunch of people in the room, mostly clustered around Matt. He wished they would go away – he needed to be able to see if Matt was OK. Someone was talking to him very insistently but he ignored him. It didn’t seem very important. Then he blinked and Matt was gone and he was being dragged to his feet. His back hurt from sitting curled up like that for so long. He wanted to brush his hair out of his eyes but his hands were somehow stuck behind his back. It was still very noisy around him. Where was Matt?  
  


When he found he was sitting in an air-conditioned car in blissful cool and quiet he could finally close his eyes.  
  
  


~

  
  
Karen was shivering even though it wasn’t particularly cold in the waiting room. It seemed quite busy, not that she had much of a framework for comparison, and everybody there was pale and anxious. The man sitting next to her was sobbing, softly. The sound left her irrationally irritated. People were staring and muttering. At her or the old man? Maybe she should try to get rid of some of the blood? She wasn’t quite sure how obvious it was.  


Every once in a while a doctor or nurse would come past and everyone looks up.  
  


“Ramirez” A young woman stood up stiffly and walked over to the nurse. They talked and she rushed eagerly further into the hospital.

  


“ Walker” … 

  


“Freeman” …

  


“Boyd” A middle-aged couple hurried over to the doctor. He started speaking to them softly but after a just few words the woman collapsed on the spot and started wailing. Everyone tried not to look as they gently led her away. The sound carried on for quite a while.  
  


Karen refused to think about that. Just like she refused to think about the way Matt’s eyes rolled back in pain as he tried to breathe, his chest seizing under her hands. Or the way his blood spread through the pages on the ground like some kind of obscene artwork. The taste of blood… her stomach heaved. She wasn’t going to cry.

  


A nurse with a grim expression crouched down next to her. “Hey,” she said gently. 

  


No, not the gentle voice. She was very aware of everyone pointedly not looking at her. Her chest tightened. “Matt…?”

  


The nurse swallowed. “He’s still in surgery. Why don’t you let me help you get cleaned up?”

  


“No, I have to stay here in case…”

  


“He’s going to be in surgery for a while,” she interrupted, her voice calm and level. “You need to get cleaned up, you’re not doing anyone any good here.” She stood up and held out her hand. “Come on.”

  


There was no fight left in her. She let the woman pull her to her feet, surprised that she needed the support. The orderly behind the counter looked at her with something like pity as she staggered off. “This way.”

  


She was led to a bathroom a couple of corridors away. This was clearly a staff bathroom. She looked around.

  


“No, don’t look in the mirror.” The nurse put both hands on her shoulders and turned her towards her. “Look at me.” She had beautiful eyes. “I’m just going to take a couple of pictures in case the police need something for evidence. There are some clean scrubs in the shower, and I left a bag for your clothes. OK?”

  


She nodded numbly. Let the nurse manoeuvre her around for a bit before a gentle shove toward the shower snapped her out of it.

  


“No, I have to go back there in case something happens.”

  


“You need to get cleaned up. I’ll stay in the waiting room and come get you if there is any news.” She hesitated. “Did you get blood in your mouth?”

  


She nodded. She wasn’t going to throw up. She wasn’t going to cry.

  


“Right, I’ll get you a prescription.”

  


What? “That’s not… he’s not…”

  


“He’ll probably get bloodwork done after surgery and we’ll know for sure. In the meantime it won’t hurt to be careful.” She shooed her toward the shower, “Go on,” and then left.

  


Karen took a breath and turned resolutely to the mirror, and had to fight a wave of hysterical laughter. She looked like a reject from a slasher movie – it looked astonishingly fake. To think she’d been wondering how obvious the blood was. She was still shaking and the dried blood was itchy on her skin. Her hands were covered in it – that much she’d known. She could vividly remember how warm his blood was as it seeped slippery between her fingers.  


Her knees and one foot were also covered in blood. She’d lost a shoe at some point, didn’t know when. There were smudges all over her chest and lap from her hands, contrasting the coffee stains. The splatter across her face… she still shied from that memory. A smear on her cheek going into her hair – she must have reflexively tucked her hair behind her ear. A handprint on her arm, no idea where that was from. One of the paramedics? _Matt?_  
  


She had to take a shower before she tried to claw her skin off.  
  


  


~

  
  
When she got back to the waiting room the nurse immediately handed her a handful of pills and a cup of very sweet coffee. “He’s still in surgery. It’s going well, I checked.” She gave her a remarkably strained smile and left. Presumably she had other work to do.  


It occurred to Karen that she should have said thank you. She stared at her cup of coffee – it was better than the stuff they had at the office. She wasn’t going to cry.  


  


She settled back in the uncomfortable chair. The edge of the backrest dug into her shoulders. She hadn’t noticed that before. The shower had helped after all, she felt a little less like a stranger in her own skin.  
  
  
Before there was any chance to get used to the dread of waiting a police officer walked into the waiting room. Shit. Maybe he wasn’t there for her. She didn’t want to deal with this right now.  
  


He noticed her and walked over. _Shit._ “Officer Mahoney” She nodded at him.

  


“Hey there.” He rocked awkwardly on his feet.

  


Right, let’s get this over with. She stood up. “I guess you need to take my statement. The clothes I was wearing during… for evidence… they’re over there.” She gestures to the sticky bag. 

  


“I’m not on the case. Because I know Nelson. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.” _Good luck with that._

He glanced at her. “How are you doing?

  


Oh. “I don't know how to answer that.”

  


He just nods.

  


“Did you talk to… Was it really…” She licks her lips. “What happened?” It couldn’t be what it looked like.  
He must know what she means.

  


Brett gave her a sidelong look. “Nelson confessed. He told them he bought the gun He smuggled it into the office. He got you to leave before Murdock showed up and shot him point blank.”

  


That wasn’t possible. For all that he’s been behaving erratically, Foggy _loves_ Matt. “Did he say _why_?” 

  


He shakes his head. “He wouldn’t say. And then they started playing mind games and told him Murdock died in surgery” she flinched “and he was facing murder charges and he broke down and stopped cooperating.”

  


She didn’t know what to say to that. “His mom is going to be so pissed.”

  


“ _My_ mom is going to be so pissed.” She almost has to swallow a laugh. Brett touches her arm lightly and Karen leans against him for a moment, thankful for the contact, before drawing back. They stand there in near companionable silence for a while.  


So it’s almost a shock when someone comes in.

  


“Murdock?”

  


“Yes! Here!” She rushes over, Brett trailing after her.

  


“You’re here for Murdock?”

  


“Yes” she repeated, trying not to let aggravation spill over. The doctor has thinning ginger hair. She can see his scalp through the curls.

  


He looks at them doubtfully. “Well OK. Mr Murdock is out of surgery. It went well but he is still in a serious condition. There was significant damage to - ”

  


The medical details flow past her. “Can we see him?”

  


The doctor blinks at being interrupted. She hates his watery blue eyes. “Are you family?”

  


“No, but…”

  


“His emergency contact?”

  


That's Foggy. Her throat constricts. “No…”

  


“Well then you can’t. Not for now anyway. If he’s willing to seem you when he wakes up we can have someone call you.” He walks off. 

  


She stares at his back in disbelief. “What a …” Brett is looking at her in amusement. She corrects. “Matt’s OK.” The pressure in her chest was lifting.

  


“He’s OK. I guess you’ll be waiting here?”

  


She nods. “Yeah.”

  


“Good. I have to get back to the precinct. I’ll let you know if there’s anything I can tell you.” Brett gives her a hesitant pat on the shoulder before he leaves.

  


She smiles after him and settles back to waiting. Matt was going to be OK. Everything was going to be OK somehow.  
  


  


~

  
  
She was halfway through a helpful article on keeping a relationship fresh – this seemed to involve blow jobs – when there was a tap on her shoulder.  


“Karen Page? Your friend’s awake. Someone told me to let you know.”

  


Karen instantly drops the ancient magazine. She’d almost managed to find her way to Matt’s room when she realised she should probably have thanked this nurse as well.  
  
When she gets to his room she stops. Inside she can see Matt in talking to the nurse who’d helped her earlier. He looks pale and haggard, but is still pulling off that same flirty grin she’s seen him use so often. The nurse does not seem impressed.  
  


Karen just stood there watching for a while. It was one thing to be told he was OK, another entirely to see it for herself. She found herself echoing his grin. She wasn’t going to cry.  
  


The nurse look up and waves her in, turning to leave. “…fine” she says to Matt, sounding resigned.

  


“Thank you, Claire.” He aims another bright smile in her direction. She rolls her eyes in return, but gives him a look of exasperated fondness. Wow, Matt really does move quickly.

  


Once the nurse, Claire, apparently, leaves, Matt seems to deflate somewhat. From closer by she can tell that his expression is tight with pain. But he still gives her a gentle smile. “Hi”

  


“Hi. How do you feel?” What a stupid thing to say.

  


Matt flinches. Clearly he agrees with her. His eyes track across the ceiling. “Tired” 

  


He looks tired. There are dark rings under his eyes and his cheekbones stand out more than usual. He was barely keeping his eyes open. If it wasn’t for how sharp and shallow his breathing was she would have thought he was about to fall asleep.

  


“Have… have you talked to Foggy?” He asks, very cautiously.

  


How to answer that? Did Matt even realise what had happened? The rush of rain filled up the silence between them. When had it started raining?  
“He’s… at the station and I’ve been here the whole time.”

  


Matt gives her another soft smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She only now realises he hasn’t been able to as much as lift his head from the pillow since she’d been watching him. 

  


“Did he, did he s… say why…?” It was clearly costing him a lot of effort to keep his breathing level. She wished he was wearing his glasses. She’d rather not have to see how clear the _hurt_ in his expression was.

  


She shook her head. So he did realise. “No” Her voice was too high. She sniffs. 

  


“Karen?” He reaches out for her but misses. His hand flaps weakly next to the bed in another attempt but he doesn’t, _can’t_ lift his arm again. 

  


She takes his hand. “I’m not crying,” but she was. She stayed there, holding his hand and listening to the rain, long after he’d fallen asleep.  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about ER protocol.


	6. Out

When Matt wakes up he is alone. He is selfishly relieved not to have to focus on reading anyone and responding appropriately. He can still feel the touch of Karen’s skin on his hand, her scent still lingers in the room, underneath the pungent odours of disinfectant and sickness and blood and _death_. He didn’t have the strength or focus to block any of it out. Through the haze of drugs the echoes in the room seemed to swirl. He couldn’t pinpoint the origin of any sound – the entire hospital was a writhing mass of sobbing. The only steady things in the room were the throbbing pain in his chest and the rush of rain against the window.

  


Claire had promised to help him get off the medication, for a while at least. He should sleep while he could, because once the drugs are out of his system any kind of rest was probably out of the question. And he really was exhausted. He was thirsty and vaguely wanted to cast around to find the nurse-call button so he could ask for something, but lifting his arm seemed like an enormous undertaking. Lifting his arm and having to focus to find the button was preposterous.

  


But once the medication wears off he’ll at least be able to think clearly, and he needed that right now.  
So he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the smeared drumming of water outside. It didn’t take long before he was asleep again.

  
  


~

  
  


With each inhalation the smell of the hospital hit him like an ice-pick straight to the brain.  


But inhaling was unbearable anyway. Every breath made tightening pain radiate through his ribs from that dead point in his chest towards his entire body. Even attempting to lift his head or move his arm seemed to pull on the wound. But the pain just seemed to get worse if he didn’t move. He was trapped. It was impossible.

  


No. The mind controls the body. And his mind was clear now. That was what he’d wanted. That was what he needed. And what he needed to do now was meditate. To heal as much as he can as quickly as possible, because he was going to need it. Matt started to focus, to block everything out. The piercing agony, the freight train of noise, the sheets that were so rough they might as well have flayed off his skin, leaving the nerves bare, the smell… 

  


There was a tray next to the bed. He needed to heal, this would help. The hospital food was mercifully bland. He tried to move as little as possible while eating; he could call for help but someone might notice that his meds were off so that was out of the question. He drank both cups of water and then lay back carefully and closed his eyes. Anyone looking in would mistake meditation for sleep and leave him alone. He could wait until Claire came back.

  
  


~

  
  


“Matt?”  
  


He’d fallen asleep. That was a good sign. He was still exhausted. He was still in pain. But it was almost bearable now, and his senses to longer threatened to overwhelm him. He could block what he needed to, he could focus.

  


“Matt, are you awake?”

  


There was no hiding the groan as he sat up. But he managed to sit up. “What time is it?”

  


“ Around eleven. You can’t seriously still want to do this?”

  


He swung his legs out of bed and had to fight a wave of dizziness. For a moment the harsh echoes of the room around him became eddies and swirls. Claire caught his arm. He could feel her steady heartbeat through her palm.

  


“I have to get out of the hospital. There’s too much…” _pain, fear, sadness, death_ ” …here. And there’s something I have to take care of.” He had to talk to Foggy. To find out what was going on. It had been clear for some time that he wasn’t well, that he was afraid, but he tried to let it go, to not push, because Foggy got annoyed at him for it. _Annoyed at him._ He should have just sat him down and talked to him. To help him somehow. And he was going to do that now, whatever it took. That was what he was going to do. He’d made up his mind.  
But bitter hurt and betrayal snaked past his determination. ‘ _Foggy doesn't want you to help him. He’d made that extremely clear. Do you really think he’s still your friend, now? You always knew he’d turn on you when he found out who you really are._ ’ No. He’d heard the way Foggy said his name after… He still cared. And even if he didn’t, Matt would still help him. Because he needed it. 

  


“And I’m going to have to help you sneak out of the hospital?” Claire’s tone made it clear no such thing was going to happen.

  


“If you brought me street clothes I can just walk out. All you need to do is get rid of anyone looking for me for as long as you can.”

  


“Is that all?" He could practically _hear_ the eye roll. "And I guess you’re going to need medical care once you’ve gallivanted out of here.”

  


“I don’t know. You tell me. I’m not planning on picking any fights.”

  


“I would be very impressed if you could even pretend to throw a punch right now."

  
  


~

  
  


Claire ended up wheeling him to the least noticeable hospital entrance. He _could_ have walked out. But this was less noticeable. And he needed to conserve his strength, after all. It was perfectly sensible to have Claire help him.

  


She stood close, next to the wheelchair as they waited for a cab. At some point he’d leant his head against her thigh. This was probably inappropriate, but he _was_ very tired. The night was cool – he was glad for the jacket she’d brought him. It was still drizzling and he could feel droplets gathering in his hair and eyelashes. Her leg was warm against his cheek. The warm-body smell of her seemed to envelope him. It was comforting. He closed his eyes.

  


The cab arrived in a spray of water. Claire helped him up. “This is a terrible idea.”

  


“I’m not arguing.” He managed to pull open the cab door, trying not to wince at the smell that rolled out. 

  


“I hid the suite at my place like you asked. What are you planning?” She kept her voice low. Her hair tickled against his face.

  


“I’m not sure yet.” She took some of his weight as he cautiously sat down into the cab, shaking her head at him slightly. The small movement sent waves of _Claire_ washing around him. The exertion of getting out of the wheelchair and into the cab made the pain in his chest expand with every beat of his heart. _No, block it out. Block it all out._ “Thank you Claire.”

  


She just shook her head again. He was almost sure she waved after the cab, but he couldn’t really tell.

  
  


~

  
  


The uniform was scratchy and ill-fitting. Matt kept his head down and tried not to fidget. He had no idea how much of a disguise the cap and glasses gave him, or even whether there were security cameras in here. There probably were.  


One hand trailed against the wall. That way he could keep walking while trying to sense where they were keeping Foggy. Normally he could just split his focus, but today it was difficult enough just to stay upright.

  


The rough brick wall gives way to cool metal – a cell door. Through his fingertips he can sense the shape of the room beyond. And he can hear Foggy’s heartbeat, slow and steady. He’s asleep.

  


This was a terrible idea. And besides, Foggy could hardly have made it any clearer that he did not want to see him. A bullet wasn’t subtle. The heat of bitterness mingled with the pain in his chest. _Block it out._ It was doubtful that the memory of trying to breathe past the blood bubbling up in his throat was going to be blocked out easily.

  


He steeled himself and unlocked the door, it clangs as he closes it, despite his best effort. Foggy snuffles and starts to wake up. Matt stood silently against the wall next to the door to catch his breath. He could pinpoint the exact moment Foggy noticed he was there. He froze, not even breathing, for a moment. And then frantically scrabbled away from him, still partially tangled up in the thin blanket that smelt of sweat and fear and desperation. There was a sharp crack as his head hit the far wall. That had to mean he’d fallen. Matt couldn’t really track his movements at the moment.

  


Foggy’s heart came rabbit-fast from the floor across from him. “Matt?” His voice cracked. “They told me… they told me you were dead.” 

  


Oh... He didn’t sound afraid. He sounded… Matt tried to keep his voice level. His own heartbeat was too loud. “ ’Well, rumours of my death..‘ and such.”

  


Foggy was crying. He could smell the tears, but he couldn’t hear them. Matt didn’t dare let go of his grip on the wall because he didn’t know whether his knees would hold him. Foggy got to his feet and started gingerly toward him.  
His footsteps echoed in the small space, every sound a blow to the chest. Matt grimaced. The pain was getting more difficult to hold off. He desperately wanted to lay down and curl up. Foggy’s footsteps faltered and he stopped in the middle of the cell. There was a hint of fear to him now.

  


“Why are you here, Matt?”

  


Why was he here? “What do you want, Foggy?” Foggy didn’t answer. Did he make a gesture? “You’re going to prison. Is that want you want?”

  


“I haven’t really thought about it.”

  


“You haven’t really…? You planned everything else out pretty well.” He couldn’t help the bitterness creeping into his voice.

  


Foggy flinched. That much he could tell.

  


“Do you want to go to prison?” He repeated.

  


“I definitely _should_ go to prison.”

  


Not what he was asking. “Do you _want_ to go to prison?”

  


“What does what I want have to do with it?” Foggy snapped, definitely crying now.

  


“Damnit, we don’t have much time here. What do you want, Foggy?” It wasn’t that long until the shift change, not that he would be able to hold his focus or stay conscious for that long.

  


Foggy swallowed. “I guess I don’t actually want to go to prison?” His voice was very soft, even to Matt.

  


OK. That was an answer. He could work with that. There were contingencies. He had to think.  
Matt took a deep breath and the sudden pain in his chest was so sharp that it encompassed the entire world. When the world came back he found he was sitting against the wall. That was fine. He could just rest here for a moment before he had to leave. The floor was cold.

  


“Matt?” Foggy was a few steps closer. Still not daring to touch him.

  


He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall. “OK, options. I can try to help you legally, and in the courtroom. But even if I vouch for you, this is still an open and shut case. And you confessed. So that’s not going to work.” Matt closed his eyes. “Mmm. I _could_ try to influence the trial like Fisk did – jury intimidation and that kind of thing - but it’s going to be a while until I’m intimidating and I’m not particularly keen on that idea anyway.” He was aware that Foggy was gaping at him. “Which leaves breaking you out.”

  


There was a hesitant silence from Foggy. “What? Are you…?” And then. “I’m don’t really think I’m built for life on the run. Wouldn’t know what to do.”

  


“I could come with you? It’s up to you. I could break you out and leave you alone, or we could go on the run together. Or I could just leave you alone completely, if that’s what you prefer.”

  


“Why would you even _do_ that? Why would you do any of this?”

  


Matt didn’t dare sigh. The pressure in his chest didn’t make it possible. “What do you _want_ , Foggy?”

  


“I want everything to go back to the way it was. Nelson and Murdock. I want none of this to have happened.”

  


Yes. “Join the club. That’s not really on the table. What do you want?”

  


Foggy was quiet for a long time. Matt’s image of him wavered. “We could go on the run together?”

  


He smiled. Even with the pain and exhaustion and swirling senses, he smiled.

  


“Right.” He needed to get up, but it didn’t seem to work. “I have to get up.” Foggy approached him warily and helped him up with an hand under his arm, other hand on his shoulder to steady him. Matt had a sudden flash of apprehension at the hand so close to his throat; Foggy still didn’t seem completely well and he couldn’t hope to defend himself at the moment. All the same he couldn’t help but lean on him. For a moment they just stood there. He had to resist dropping his head onto Foggy’s shoulder. He was so tired. He had to pull himself together.  
“OK, turn around.”

  


“What?” Foggy retreated, alarm back in voice.

  


“I’ve got cuffs. How else do you think we’re going to walk out of here?”

  


“We’re doing this _now_?”

  


Matt just leant against the wall, waiting.

  


“Right, OK.” Foggy turned around and put his hands behind his back. His heart was trilling in fear again. Matt had to fumble with the cuffs to get them off his belt and pressed them on very gently.

  


“They’re not too tight?”

  


“I think I could slip my hands out if I had to.”

  


“Good. Uhm. Don’t do that for now.” He gripped Foggy’s arm, partially for the look of things, partially out of habit to be guided. “Let’s go. There’s nobody around at the moment.” 

  


They walked back down the hallway, Matt half a step behind Foggy. He knew his grip on Foggy’s elbow was probably too tight, and he was putting more weight on it than he thought would be necessary. It was a good thing it was this late - the corridor was empty. Around the corner was only the one distracted officer behind the screen. Foggy stiffened again when he saw her.

  


Matt grit his jaw. It was critical he act normal now. Normal was not in pain, not on the verge of collapse, not dizzy with the way the clicking of her keyboard echoed down the corridor.  
“Prisoner transfer. We’re taking him to Rikers.”

  


“Paperwork?” She stuck out her hand, barely looking up. 

  


Foggy’s breathing tensed. “I’m sure you can take care of that.” Matt tried to keep his voice airy.

  


She looked up. “I don’t think so. Paperwork.”

  


He leaned on the counter, trying to seem intimidating and not just exhausted.

  


“I could fill out the paperwork now. Simultaneously I could fill out a form advising IA of the need for ‘random’ drug testing at this precinct.”

  


“How do you…?” She stopped short. Seemed to be trying to stare him down. “Fine, I’ll take care of the paperwork.” He pushed Foggy on before he could give the game away by sighing in relief.

  


Once around the corner Foggy started talking again. He always talked when he was nervous. “We’re lucky that the on-duty officer was someone you could blackmail.”

  


“…or I planned it this way.”

  


“Good point. How did you know, anyway?”

  


“After the Fisk fiasco I made it my business to know what the cops in the precinct are up to. And the smell of weed really clings.”

  


They stopped at the back entrance to the station. There were voices coming from the parking lot. The rain had picked up again and it was hard to pinpoint which way they were going.  
“Wait, there are people out there.”

  


They waited. “Where did you get the uniform?”

  


“I knocked out a cop.” Foggy shifted. He could tell he didn’t like it. “It was a _dirty_ cop, if that helps.” Talking was difficult. The pain in his chest was radiating up his throat, trying to choke him. He needed the hand on Foggy’s arm to steady him.

  


“How did you even manage that?”

  


“Threw a half-brick at him.” It was faintly embarrassing. He felt Foggy’s arm shift under his hand, but it was hard to make out his movement. His breath huffed. “Are you laughing at me?”

  


“Wouldn’t dream of it, buddy.” There was a smile to his voice.

  


Hi sniffed, dignified. The sharp movement was a mistake. “I think whoever was outside is gone.”

  


“You think?”

  


“It’s getting more difficult to focus.” Foggy slipped out of his grasp and peered out the door. Matt leant against the wall, needing stability from somewhere. All he could sense anymore was the cloud of _Foggy_ next to him and the piercing stab to his chest with every breath. He just needed to close his eyes for a moment. Foggy unfairly stopped him from sagging to the ground. He must have slipped his cuffs.

  


“There’s no-one outside. You need to go back to the hospital.”

  


Foggy was warm and steady. “m’fine. Just need to rest.” He was slurring. “We need to get to an alley off 51st and 11th. I have a plan, sort of. Mmm… Keys…” He fumbled at the jacket pocket. Foggy got the keys. “Don’t worry, outside camera doesn’t work.”

  


“Don’t tell me, someone threw a half-brick at it.”

  


He smiled. They were going to be OK.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is the longest chapter yet and almost nothing happens.
> 
> Matt isn’t thinking clearly because of drugs and pain and exhaustion, and he doesn’t have a good record for rational decision-making at the best of times. Foggy isn’t thinking clearly because.. he’s not thinking clearly right now.  
> Karen, on the other hand, is no longer in shock and _is_ thinking clearly. And she’s going to be pissed. 
> 
> The address Matt gives Foggy is just supposed to be some alley – I picked the street names pretty much at random. No idea what’s really there.


	7. Plan

Karen stood in front of her wardrobe, undecided. She was fully aware of how ridiculous it was to dress up for Matt, but this at least kept her mind off things. This morning she’d found herself halfway to the office before realising that she might never be going there again. It would be a while before Matt got out of the hospital, and he probably wouldn’t be able to keep the firm open without Foggy. Would he even _want_ to keep it open without Foggy?  


Besides, she had no idea how to get that much blood out of the carpet. At her apartment she’d just ended up throwing a rug over the stain. That stain… It took her back to fear and distrust and a soft voice: ‘We’ll keep you safe, Karen.’  


This wasn’t a helpful train of thought.  


Right. It was a bit too cool for the flower dress, but… The telephone rang. What a relief.  
“Hey Brett”

  


“Hi.” There was a pause. “So I said I’d keep you updated…”

  


Something was wrong. She dropped the hanger “What’s going on?”

  


“I just heard that we seem to have… misplaced Nelson.”

  


“What? How… What?”

  


“Apparently he was transferred late last night, but the admin at Rikers is a mess and they’re having trouble tracking down where they put him.”

  


Well, that was suspicious.

  


“Don’t worry about it. This is just an bureaucracy thing. I just didn’t want you to find out from nosing around and draw conclusions.”

  


“I don't _nose around._ ” She was already rummaging in her closet for some sensible clothes. It didn’t matter much what.

  


“OK” Did he sound amused? “I’ll call again later.”

  


“Thanks Brett.” She dropped the phone and got moving. She stuck to serviceable jeans and a sweater and headed straight to the hospital.  
When she got there she saw the two officers that had ended up taking her statement. They’re talking to the same harried-looking nurse, Claire, she remembers, that had helped her.

  


“…you can come back to question him during visiting hours. I don’t care whether you’re police or family or his best friend, it’s not visiting hours and he’s sleeping. Mr Murdock just got shot and you’re not going to bother him right now.”

  


The cops share a look but apparently aren’t willing to argue with her. “We’ll come back later. Have someone call us if he wakes up before then.” They hand her a card and walk off. The taller of the two gives her a nod as they pass by, apparently recognising her.

  


The nurse notices her standing there and sighs. She starts to say something but Karen interrupts. “Come back a during visiting hours. I got it.” She didn’t remember them being this strict with this when she was here with Foggy. Although that was an unusual situation all round, with the bombings and all. The memory of how worried Foggy had been about Matt that night makes her chest feel uncomfortable tight.

  


Claire gives a strained smile. “I know you’d like to see him, but he really does need his rest at the moment.” She sounds stressed and strangely bitter.

  


“You seem tired.” Karen tried to seem sympathetic but it probably just sounded rude.

  


“I’m on my second shift for the day.”

  


No wonder she seemed strained. “Does that kind of thing happen often?”

  


“This is a special case.” She really did sound bitter. Karen vaguely wondered what kind of office politics was at play here.

  


“Well I hope you get to have some rest soon.” Claire did something between a scoff and an eyeroll. “And thanks for helping me … before. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t actually part of your job.”

  


This gets her the first real smile that she’d seen from her. “I’m glad I could help.”

  


She smiles back and heads home, feeling lighter for some reason.

  
  


~

  


  
  
She didn’t know what to do with herself. Going to work was out of the question, and the people she would normally hang out with were either at the hospital or in jail. Karen tried not to give that too much thought. Nelson and Murdock was the closest thing she had to home, to family, lately. Matt and Foggy were her home.  
She shook her head and filled in time watching reruns. There is an insistent knock on the door.  


It’s Brett. She smiles. “Hi” 

  


He looks a lot less friendly than the last time she saw him. “Can I come in?”

  


She stepped back and he strode past her, checking every room. A familiar narration and fanfare blared from the TV. She switched it off. “What’s going on?”

  


He looks at her appraisingly. “Nelson isn’t misplaced. He’s out.”

  


“Out!? He escaped? How?” Foggy was hardly the type for daring escapades.

  


“Someone knocked an officer out last night, took his uniform and just walked out of there with Nelson. He had forged transfer paperwork so no-one gave it any thought at the time. It’s not really clear whether he was in on it or not.”

  


“But… that…” It didn’t make any sense. That means it wasn’t just a case of Foggy somehow losing it, that there is some kind of conspiracy going on. What was he involved in?

  


“They took a cop-car and apparently left it somewhere with the keys still in it. It was halfway across the city and in pieces by the time we managed to trace it. We have no idea where they are.” Brett was still watching her very closely. “And that’s not all.” She looked up at him. “Murdock’s not at the hospital. Someone must have taken him.”

  


_Matt?_ “What? That can’t… He needs to be in hospital. Why wasn’t someone watching him after Foggy went missing?”

  


“We didn’t think anyone would go after him…”

  


“You didn’t think! Matt’s in danger! How long has he been missing?” Panic starts twisting at her gut. This was all going wrong.

  


“We’re not sure. Look, I just wanted to tell you…”

  


“No, you just wanted to come here and check that I wasn’t hiding Foggy in my apartment for some reason. You need to be out there looking for Matt!”

  


For a moment Brett looks like he’s going to say something, but then he just nods and leaves. Karen stares after him.

  


They didn’t know how long Matt’s been missing from the hospital, needing medical care… She thinks of the nurse who had helped her, who she instinctively trusted because she… had a kind smile?, _who stopped people from going to see Matt._ How long has he actually been missing?  
She was going to get to the bottom of this, one way or another. She was going to figure out what was going on, and she was going to save Matt. She owed him that at least.  
Karen checked for the mace in her purse. Should she take the gun? She’d gotten it after Wesley… But right now she couldn’t bring herself to consider using a gun. Not after seeing what one did to Matt. At the time she’d almost thought it was karma. That Matt would die, that she would feel his heart stop under her hands, because of what she had done. A shooting for a shooting. But that was ridiculous. The world didn’t keep tabs. The world wasn’t _fair_.  
She left the gun behind and headed to the hospital.

  
  


~

  
  


She doesn’t quite know what to when she gets to the hospital. There is the usual amount of bustle and announcements being called. Everyone clearly has somewhere they urgently need to be. The building was huge. Last time she was here she just happened to come across Claire… No, she came across Claire because she was running interference so no-one would notice Matt was already gone. In fact she had been all stressed and keeping an eye on Matt right from when he came in, she had just been too out of it at the time to notice.

She has to find her. Karen puts on the most sincere smile she can manage and heads to the nurses station. “Hi, I’m looking for one of the nurses, Claire? She helped me the other day and I’d really like to thank her properly.”  


A nurse looks up from her computer and frowns. “Who are you looking for?”

  


“Claire. Pretty Hispanic woman?” This gets her a knowing smile. Karen blushes despite herself.

  


“Temple. She’s busy at the moment.” The nurse considers her. Karen tries to look pleading. “Shift ends in about an hour. Temple usually parks at the back entrance, if you’d like to talk to her.”

  


She doesn’t have to fake a grateful smile. “Thanks so much.”  
  
The back entrance is considerably dingier than the visitors side. There are a lot of graffitied signs and an overflowing trash bin. Karen parks within sight of the entrance and settles in to wait. Maybe this won’t lead to anything. Maybe she’s just being paranoid. Maybe she’s just going to end up following some poor, overworked nurse home. But maybe…

  


After two hours or so Karen sees a familiar figure leaving the hospital. She somehow expected her to still be wearing scrubs, but she’s dressed comfortably – jeans and a grey hoody – and she’s pulling on a short jacket. She heads for a small orange scooter parked on the corner and puts on the helmet.

  


It turns out that tailing someone with a car is actually quite difficult. She didn’t dare drive too close behind her in case she noticed something, but every time Claire rounded a corner she was anxious that she would lose her while she was out of sight. And the scooter was nimble in traffic. It quickly became clear, however that she wasn’t going home. Karen tensed up when they took the turn towards the docks. This definitely wasn’t normal nurse behaviour.  


Claire stopped outside one of the warehouses and went in. Karen had dropped quite a distance behind at this point – she didn’t think that she had been seen, but considering where they were it was also possible that she had been led into a trap. At any rate the scooter was bright enough to be visible for some distance.  


Karen parked around the corner and headed toward the warehouse. The sky was grey and the slight breeze promised more rain to come. She could hear water lapping at the docks. If there was someone watching from the warehouse windows they would have seen her by now, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. Her footsteps seemed very loud. She carefully pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. There wasn’t anyone waiting for her. Some kind of argument echoed through the building. She crept carefully closer, keeping her hand firmly on the mace.

  


“… unbelievable. You have had some terrible plans in the past but this! This wasn’t even a plan. What are you going to do now?” That was Claire’s voice. She sneaked towards the source of the argument.  
  
There was some low murmuring, she couldn’t quite make it out.  
  
“…If I had known what you were up to I would _not_ have helped you.” OK, that was a good sign. Maybe the nurse could be reasoned with. Maybe she could still get Matt to safety. “…Do you know how much I’ve had to lie for you today?”

  


“Come on, Claire…” Oh shit. That was Foggy. Foggy was here. She thought the nurse might lead her to the people who took Matt. Not… She didn’t know how to deal with Foggy right now. She should call Brett. Definitely. Why didn’t she bring the gun with her? And why did she just want to talk to Foggy so badly?

  


“…No! _You_ do not get to talk! I… I don't even know how to get started on _you_.” The anger is clear in her voice now. Before it was just irritation.

  


They were just around the corner from where she was hiding. Now what? She found Foggy – so just call the police? Who else was here?  
  
Karen took a deep breath, kept her hand securely on the mace and stepped into the room. The argument faltered and she was confronted by a trio of guilty faces. Matt’s guilty face.

  


“Umm… Hey Karen.” His voice cracked and he struggled to get upright. There was some kind up camp bed set up, with a IV bag hanging from a hook on the wall. Foggy was sitting on the foot-end of the bed.

  


“Don’t sit up.” Claire instantly snapped, and threw her hands up in disgust when he ignored her, managing to manoeuvre himself up with his back to the wall and slumping back.

  


“…Matt!?” That wasn’t possible. That didn’t make any sense.  
“What the hell?!” Matt licked his lips, seeming to consider a reply. “Why..?” She took a calming breath. “What’s going on here?”

  


Matt cleared his throat. “We’re going on the run.” “Foggy and I. Not Claire. I think.” Claire sighed heavily. Foggy kept his eyes on the ground. Somewhere behind her was the regular dripping of water from the rafters into a puddle. 

  


“That’s ridiculous.” It seemed very important to keep her voice level.

  


Claire turns to Matt. “Oh, I like _her_.”

  


That couldn’t stand. Karen snaps. “You! You don’t get to tell him off. You’re part of this.” Claire starts to reply but she cuts her off. “What is this even about?”

  


Matt grunts as he tries to straighten up. “It’s a long story.” 

  


Foggy looks up for the first time. “No it’s not. It’s like three words, tops.”

  


Matt’s eyes track the wall behind her, thinking. “I’m Daredevil?”

  


She stared at them. Foggy gave a sideways nod. So did Claire, rolling her eyes.  
“No, that’s not… That’s not even possible.” Were they all insane? Humouring Matt? No-one said anything and Matt managed to look even more guilty than before. _No_  
“How..? You two been hiding this from me all this time?” Matt had been lying to her. The person that she had been absolutely sure could be trusted to be a good guy had been lying to her. Everything was falling apart.

  


Matt addressed the blanket he was sitting under, no longer even trying to look in her direction. “To be fair, Foggy only recently found out about any of it.”

  


“You’ve been lying to Foggy all this time?” They both flinched. She turned to Foggy “What, and you freaked out and thought… _this_ was a reasonable response?”

  


“I did freak out and… I don't know. It seemed like it was necessary at the time. I may not have been entirely rational.” Foggy tries for a smile but his voice was thin. Matt leaned towards him.

  


“And you are now? Rational?”  
Foggy just shrugged.

  


Karen turned on Matt. That was easier than trying to process any of this. “Did it occur to you that Foggy might need help, not getting dragged out of jail? Did _you_ do that?”

  


“Yes, I… It’s not like he was going to get help in prison.” Probably true, but not entirely helpful.

  


Karen ran both hands through her hair. “This is such a mess.” 

  


Claire nods to herself where she stands against the wall off to the side. “Tell her your plan, Matt. For going on the run.”

  


Matt stammers. “Uhm… We’ll… leave, I guess?” Foggy starts laughing at Claire disgusted expression, but quickly stops when she glares at him.

  


“That’s great. Just great, Matt.”  
Karen considers. They had both lied to her. Matt wasn’t who she had thought he was. He was, in all probability, dangerous. And so was Foggy, at least at the moment. They hadn’t trusted her, and she had no reason to trust them. They were both in serious trouble with the law, this couldn’t possibly end well. She watches Matt’s dejected expression. Watches as he grimaces in pain when he tries to shift. Foggy moves to help him but draws back at the last moment. They both look miserable. _Shit_  
“We’re going to need a new look. Every cop in the area is looking for the two of you. Fake ID’s…”

  


Matt drooped a bit more. His head tipped back. “… I know a guy.” He blinked. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

  


“I’m going with you.” That was the only way. Neither of them were fit for anything at the moment.

  


“No” Matt snaps, Foggy just a moment behind him. Matt tries to straighten up again. It doesn’t work.

  


“You two do _not_ get to say no to me right now.”

  


Claire stares at her. “You’re all insane.”

  


Probably. But she could worry about that later. Practical concerns first. “You two need to make a list of stuff you’ll need on the road. I can go get it before the police figure out I’m involved…”

  


Foggy interrupts quietly. “Or I could just go back to jail and the rest of you don’t need to be in trouble?”

  


“That’s not going to happen.” Matt’s slumped against the wall and can’t keep his eyes open but he’s still arguing. And worryingly pale. 

  


She ignored them both and addressed Claire. “We’ll need medical supplies...”

  


Claire looks resigned. “Yeah I figured. I’ll see what I can do.”

  


“…And a good deal of cash. I could empty my account and…”

  


“Actually, I think I know where you can find cash.” Matt really needs to go back to sleep, he’s barely conscious.

  


“Find?”

  


“Mmm. There was fire in the warehouse district a while ago. In the paper because of a scandal about illegal immigrants and slave labour. They found a lot of heroin there. Remember?”

  


“I guess.” This was quite a tangent. How coherent was Matt at the moment?

  


“Well, the owners left in a hurry and I’m pretty sure there’s cash under the floorboards in the office.”

  


“How do you even..? Nevermind. I’ll need those addresses. You two stay here and… don't do anything. Matt, get some sleep. Claire and I have a couple of stops to make.” They had work to do.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me really long to figure out where to split off this chapter, and with this and the next one, what to show and what just to mention so the story keeps flowing. Still not happy with it but I can’t keep on stalling.
> 
> I know the scooter thing for Claire isn’t canon, but it just works for me.
> 
> Public service announcement for the day: Never tell a stranger where to find your friend or co-worker.


	8. Team

Karen and Claire march off in a flurry of organised practicality. It was a relief that someone had taken control of the situation. He certainly wasn’t up to it and Matt was barely coherent at the moment. He’d been better when he’d fetched him from the precinct, which was worrying. Particularly since Matt didn’t seem to be letting himself rest.  
“I don’t like that Karen’s involved in this.” Foggy rolled his eyes. Hypocrite much?

  


“Well it’s not really up to you. Lie down and actually get some sleep, Matt. Please?”

  


Matt grumbles but slowly and carefully manoeuvres himself back to a prone position. He squirms and frowns and ends up with a foot in Foggy’s lap. The blankets are too short. He tenses. “Is this OK?”

  


“Sleep, Matt. Or I’ll give you something. I’m pretty sure Claire left drugs here.” 

  


Matt huffs and begins to argue. “You wouldn’t…”

  


He shakes his ankle. “ _Sleep_ , Matt.”

  
  


~

  
  


The wall is unpleasantly damp behind him. He wanted to shift, or even better, get up and stretch his back, but Matt would probably wake up if he moved now. Matt was still way too pale, and somehow clearly in pain even while he was asleep. This couldn’t be good for him. This place was dank and dirty, and the camp bed that guy… _Melville?, Marvin?_... left for them was uncomfortable and smelt of mildew.  
It was easy to worry about Matt now that he was essentially helpless. He didn’t get that feeling of prickly panic every time he so much as frowned. But who knew if it was going to come back?  
He would just have to deal with it – they were going to be spending a lot of time together and Matt would be able to tell if he’s freaking out at him all the time. He didn’t want to hurt him.  


Foggy has half fallen asleep again when Matt grimaces. He can feel phantom movement of the leg under his hand. Was he having a nightmare?  
“Matt, wake up.” Matt was panting now. “Matt!”  
Matt gasps and his eyes flutter open, tracking rapidly.  
“You OK?”

  


“Mmm” That was more a groan than an answer. Matt seemed to be struggling with himself. “Will you help me up?”

  


Foggy gets up stiffly and leans over to help him, but Matt flinches back. They both freeze.  
Matt swallows, “Sorry,” and manages to drag himself more-or-less upright. He crosses his arms over his knees and drops his head. It’s remarkable that he can make himself so small. Foggy paces across the room, trying to get his heartrate back down before Matt notices.

  


“We have to talk, Matt.”

  


Matt sighs and doesn’t lift his head. “About what?”

  


“About _something_ real. Or this isn’t going to work.” Matt lifts his head and waved his hand weakly to continue. Where to start? “What was the deal with Healy?”

  


“Healy?” Whatever Matt had been expecting, that wasn’t it.

  


“You were all against taking his case at first, which makes sense considering it was really skeevy, and then suddenly you wouldn’t let it go.”

  


Matt fiddled with his hospital bracelet. They should take it off. “I was hoping he would tell us something about who he was working for. Attorney-client privilege and all.”

  


Foggy represses a twinge of annoyance that Matt was going to use privileged information for his… _illegal activities_ , although that hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things right now. “But that didn’t work…”

  


“So I waited until he got out to question him properly.”

  


“You mean you hurt him until he told you what you wanted to hear. There’s a word for that, Matt,” Matt swallowed and kept his expression determinedly on the bracelet. “Can you see why it would bother me that you are capable of something like that?” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t reply.  
Foggy continued very softly. “I heard Heally ended up dead.”

  


This makes Matt look up. “I didn’t do that, I swear.” His breathing is unsteady. “He killed himself. I’ve never…”

  


“Why would he kill himself?”

  


“He said that… because he talked… Fisk would hurt the people close to him. I didn’t expect him to…” Matt’s breathing is ragged. He should be resting, not having emotional conversations.

  


“Look, none of this excuses what I did to you, Matt. Not even close. I still don’t really know…” Foggy shook his head. “You lied to me for so long, and so well, that I figured I don’t know who you are, or what you’re capable of, or what you’re still lying to me about.”

  


Matt shook his head. “I’m not…”

  


“I believe you, Matt. I’m not saying it was reasonable, or rational. You scared me.” He shrugged helplessly. “In any case, the situation we are in now is not your fault, so you can stop looking all miserable and guilty. At least until Karen comes back.” This gets him a rueful smile. Foggy’s heart clenched. “I really wish I could fix what I’ve broken. I’m so sorry.”

  


Matt seems to look for a reply but comes up short. It falls silent between them. The sound of dripping water fills the room. Matt tilts his head. “Claire and Karen are on their way. They’re carrying something heavy.”

  


“I’ll go give them a hand.” It’ll be a relief to leave the room.  
He finds them a couple of passages down, red-faced and panting, dragging in a small safe. “You two are taking security very seriously all of a sudden. Can I help you with that?”

  


Karen straightens up with a hand in her back and huffs her hair out of her face. She shrugs at him. “Claire said to bring it.” 

  


Claire leans against the wall for a moment. “Take that up to Matt. We’ll get the bags.” She walks off.  
Karen rolls her eyes at him behind her back and follows Claire.

  


The safe was a lot heavier that it looked. By the time he had managed to stagger with it to Matt, Karen and Claire were both already there, sorting out backpacks and shopping bags. He dropped it next to the bed, startling everyone. “Jeez, that’s heavy. Care to explain?”

  


Claire looks up from what she’s doing. “It’s what we found in the office at the burnt-up place. Figure maybe Matt should have a crack at it before we attack it with a crowbar.” Karen gave him a mystified look.

  


Matt had been lying on his side, following proceedings. He sighed and rolled over to dangle an arm over the edge of the bed to reach the safe. Fiddled with it, frowning with concentration.

  


Karen stared “What…?”  
They shushed her. Matt continued, fingers delicate and precise. The safe cracked open.  
Matt flopped back onto his back.

  


Impressive. Foggy grinned. “How are you not a professional criminal? Oh, yeah.”

  


Matt rolled his eyes hugely, his forehead wrinkling. “Professionals get paid.” 

  


Karen was still gaping. “I feel like I’m missing so much here.”

  


“Mmm. I’ll probably need to explain at some point.” Trust Matt not to want to do it now. “What’s in the safe?”

  


Foggy scooted closer and sat with his back against the bed. “Couple of wads of cash.” He picked one up. “Big bills. That’ll keep us going for a while. Some…paperwork in Chinese?” He took out a very large, dense brick. “Umm, heroin, I’m guessing?”  
They considered this in silence. “We should probably get rid of the heroin. Throw it in the river or something,” Matt indicated vaguely.

  


Foggy sniffed. “Or we could have a party?” Karen and Claire glared at him. Matt grinned at the ceiling. “The river it is.”

  
  


~

  
  


Karen had decided that since the police were looking for them, they had to go for a disguise of some sort. This was probably true and sensible. However, the end result was that Claire ended up fussing with Karen’s hair with some scissors and home-use dye, leaving her with a fringe and.. different looking hair in mousy brown.  
  
“Come on, your hair was so pretty.” He can’t keep the dismay out of his voice. “And that’s a terrible colour.” Matt was under strict orders to keep lying down, so he just snickered at him.  


  


“It’s a boring colour. The point is not to get noticed. Get over here, it’s your turn.”

  


“You’re not cutting my hair.”  
Foggy ends up with his neck cold and exposed, feeling strangely light. They gave him the same horrible colour Karen used. At least they matched. “What about Matt?”

  


“We’re not going to mess with him. Since he’s _supposed_ to be resting. The scruff is just going to have to be his disguise. We did get him so new glasses.” Karen handed over a pair of aviators. “Put them on.”  
Matt grasps for the glasses and puts them on, slightly crooked, not bothering to get up.  
“Wow, they make you look like an asshole.” Matt huffed and takes them off.

  


Claire clapped her hands. “OK you three. Pictures for your ID’s. Go stand up against the wall.”

  


Karen puts on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and move over.  
“I didn’t know you wear glasses.”

  


“Contacts usually, but disguise, you know.” She tucks her hair behind her ears.

  


“You look like a librarian.”

  


“Bite me.”  
Claire took the picture. Karen looks unusually vicious.  
  
“Now you”  
  
After Foggy’s picture is taken care of he helps Matt haul himself upright. “Try to look as not-blind as possible for a moment.”

  


Matt opens his mouth to argue but Claire buts in. “For the ID. If they’re going to track blind guys based on records they’ll find you lot in no time.”

  


Matt points his eyes somewhere in Claire’s general vicinity and she snaps a picture.  
“OK?” He sounds self-conscious.

  


“Good enough. We’ll go get the ID’s. Try to get this stuff sorted in the meantime.”  
Karen snags a couple of bills from the safe. “There were police watching your apartment so I couldn’t go there. Bought you some essentials, and some stuff for all of us for on the road. That needs to be organised.” She points at some of the bags and leaves with Claire, their footsteps echoing with the dripping of water further off in the building.

  


Foggy goes over to the piles of bags in the middle of the room. Matt sits, half asleep, listening to him. One hand plucks absentmindedly at the threadbare blanket.  
There is an old duffle bag with Matt’s belongings: clothes, toiletries, laptop with a Braille display - he is more emotional about Matt’s Columbia sweater than is strictly necessary. The large, heavy, backpack is apparently Karen’s. He leaves it alone. Next to it is a box packed with medical supplies and a couple of pages of densely written notes in a handwriting he doesn’t recognise. Claire went to a lot of effort.  
The rest is a bunch of shopping bags and a ragged sports bag and smaller backpack, both empty.  
He starts packing. There’s a new duffle in one of the sacks into which he stuffs everything that is clearly meant for him – sneakers, a pair of jeans and sweatpants, T-shirts, a hoody, a sweater. A pair of shorts. He snorts at that. A pack of underwear and a few pairs of socks. All plain in neutral colours. Karen was meticulous. He adds the bag of toiletries and manages to stuff in the box with medical supplies as well – less suspicious to carry it around that way.  
The rest is mostly groceries - food and bottles of water and soda and the like. This he dumps in the sports bag without bothering to unpack. Four burner phones with sim-cards still in packaging. He installs all of these and makes sure they all have the other numbers on them. Two go in the smaller backpack, two he leaves out – one for Claire to take with her, one Karen would presumably put in her purse. There are a couple of cheap novels – he wants to joke about this apparently necessity with Matt, but he’s fallen asleep sitting on the bed, his head tipped backward. The novels go in the backpack, as does an in-car kettle, phone chargers, and a collection of dark glasses and caps. After some thought he distributes the cash from the safe between the two backpacks and the medical kit, leaving some out for Karen carry in her purse. He’s dithering about just throwing the heroin out the window and into the harbour when he hears a car outside and Karen and Claire’s voices echo up to him. They sound amused. He tosses the heroin.  
  
Karen and Claire quiet down as they come in. Matt’s still sleeping. Karen hands him two ID’s. Matt’s says ‘Mike Guthrie’. In the picture he seems to be looking just behind the camera. It’s pretty good.  
  
Foggy looks coldly unfamiliar in his picture – the hair was going to take some getting used to. “Forrest Johnson? That’s a _terrible_ name.” He keeps his voice low.

  


Karen grins. “I figured our names should be close to our real ones. In case we screw up. I’m Catherine Johnson. Catherine with a C,” she adds, as if she had been doing it her whole life. “We’re cousins.” 

  


Foggy drops the ID’s into the backpack and stands up, uncertainly. “So that’s it? We’re going?”

  


Karen and Claire glance at each other. “We’ve been talking about when the best time to go would be to avoid being seen… But the best time to leave is as soon as possible, before the cops put everything together. If they haven’t yet.”

  


Foggy nods. They start carrying the bags to the car, still keeping quiet. He hadn’t even noticed it getting dark, but it was probably pretty late by now. Or early, possibly. The thump of the trunk slamming shut is way too loud over the gentle sloshing of the waves and the far off sounds of the city. “What about the car? Won’t they be able to trace it?”

  


Karen shrugs. “It’s Ben’s car. His wife said I could have it but it’s still in his name. It’s unlikely to be connected to us, for a while anyway.”  
They stand around in the cold, not looking at each other. Foggy’s insides clench with nervousness. Claire is the first to speak up.

  


“I want to check up on Matt first, but then you should really get going.” She goes in. They follow her slowly.

  


Karen’s voice is soft. “Have you and Matt actually talked about what happened?”

  


“Sort of. We’re _all_ going to have to talk. Properly. Once everyone is conscious and coherent.” That was going to be painful. Karen half smiles, but she looks worried too.

  


When they get in Claire is fussing over an increasingly irritable Matt. He’s pale and grumpy. She helps him carefully to his feet, clearly taking most of his weight. Foggy takes over from her. Matt feels lighter than he should. He leans his head on Foggy’s shoulder, blinking blearily.  
Claire hands Karen the blanket and stands back, considering them.

  


“I need you to realise… all of you to realise… that this could still go badly for Matt. All this fussing around isn’t good for him. He needs to rest.” She steps in and briefly gives him a very gentle hug. Sniffs and pushes her hands into her pockets, looking away. Matt catches her wrist.

  


“ _Thank you_ , Claire.” He gives her a smile, a small, fragile thing.

  


“You’re always saying that. Get out of here.”

  
  


~

  
  


Karen falls asleep as they were leaving the city, her head dangling against the seat belt. She’s snoring softly now. They’d decided that he would take the first shift driving since she had been running around all night arranging things while he napped with Matt. The sun had been up for an hour or so now, she’d probably wake up when it got brighter and they could stop for breakfast. His stomach gurgled. He wasn’t sure when the last time was he’d eaten something. At the police station?  
Matt was partially curled up in the back seat, clearly uncomfortable. He couldn’t help continually glancing back at him - he wondered if Matt could tell. Every time he looked back he saw too bright dark eyes and a tight expression. He hadn’t been sleeping.  
Karen groaned and lifted her head, squinting against the light. She rubbed her neck.

“Morning.”

  


“Ugh” She grimaced at him. So she wasn’t a morning-person. Good to know.

  


“Should we make a pit-stop?”

  


“Good idea.”  
He stopped next to the road and Karen immediately got out and rummaged in the bag wedged behind her seat. Wandered off into the bushes with a roll of toilet paper without a word. He started up the kettle. There were muffins in the bag, as well as a responsible amount of fruit.

  


“Decaf?” He called after her.

  


“God no,” came her voice from behind a large shrub.

  


Foggy stretched and shivered as they stood next to the car drinking instant coffee and eating breakfast. Matt hadn’t come out of the blanket nest he had made for himself in the back seat. He hadn’t said much, apart from complaining about the isotonic energy drink they’d given him. Now and again a car rumbled past. No-one talked – it was almost peaceful.

  


Karen threw an apple core over her shoulder. “We should get going.”  
There was a brief squabble about who would be driving, but Foggy ended up taking a second shift. Matt pulled a tangerine out of the bag but fell asleep before he was halfway done peeling it. They still had a long way to go.

  
  


~

  
  


He wakes up when Karen throws the car door shut, gravel crunching as she walks off. It was dark out. The sky was bright with stars. All he could hear in the distance was crickets and the breeze through the woods. Foggy turned in his seat. Matt blinked at him, not moving.  
“What do you sense?”  


“Trees” He sounds desperately tired.

  


“Care to be more specific?”

  


“Lots of trees.”

  


Karen gets back into the car with a swirl of cool air and jangled some keys at them. “I think we can stay here for a while. It’s touristy enough that they won’t really pay attention to a couple of outsiders hanging around, but still pretty quiet.” She started the car. “We can stay until Matt’s feeling better.”  
She drove them to a small cabin a couple of minutes up a dirt road. Foggy half-carries Matt inside and deposits him very carefully on the bed while Karen gets their bags.  
“Sleep” Matt mumbles.

  


“First you need a check-up. Claire left detailed instructions”

  


“I can do that myself later. I’m used to it.”

  


Foggy grimaced. That was both sad and rather disturbing. “We are under strict orders. I’m not pissing Claire off. She will hunt us down.”

  


Matt’s vitals are OK, as far as they can tell. Checking the wound itself is intensly awkward, especially since neither he nor Karen want to face the actual injury. Matt’s either asleep or ignoring them at this point. Foggy considers the slow rise and fall of his chest as he rebandages the wound, skin warm under his hands. Considered what almost happened. He has to swallow away a lump in his throat. Karen is staring at Matt. He can’t tell if it’s at muscle or scars or at the bandage under his fingertips. She looks away when she realised he’s noticed.  
“What are we doing?”

  


“I have no idea.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tangerines are gross.
> 
> I keep on stretching things out. Don’t want to take leave of this story yet.  
> Also, this chapter ended on an unexpected down-note, so I’m adding a (very) short epilogue.


	9. Epilogue

Matt leans back in the passenger seat, his feet up on the dash. He is arhythmically rapping the back of his knuckles against the window. It’s intensely annoying. Karen is sitting sideways on the back seat, reading. She has sensibly long-since tuned the both of them out. Matt continues to tap absentmindedly on the window. Foggy increases his grip on the steering wheel. _Just ignore it._. He glances up at Karen in the mirror. She wasn’t reading. She was staring unseeingly at her book and trying not to laugh. Meanwhile Matt has turned his hand around to tap with his finger nails instead, his head tipped back to the sky, listening intently.

  


Foggy took a calming breath. “You’re trying to annoy me on purpose.”

  


“That would be childish,” Matt said primly.

  


Karen dissolved into giggles behind them. Foggy sighed. “The book…” she gasped for breath. “The book is very funny.”  
Well that was very convincing, considering she was reading Nabokov.

  


Matt sighed. “This is incredibly boring, Foggy. You can at least look outside.”

  


“So, crack a window and sniff the countryside.”

  


“It all just smells like fields.”

  


Foggy rolled his eyes. “Well it all just looks like fields too.”

  


“You could put the radio back on.”

  


Yes, and have to listen to their comments on his singing. He considered threatening to turn the car around. “We have two problems here. Firstly, you’re bouncing off the walls and you’re barely even healed yet. It’s like being locked up with a hyperactive border collie in need of a walk.”

  


Matt huffed. “I’m used to being more… active.”

  


“No kidding. It’s intensely aggravating. Second problems is that at we’re going to run out of cash at some point. We need income.”

  


Karen piped up from behind them. “True – gas, motels, diner food - it all adds up pretty quickly.”  
Matt seemed uninterested. The practicalities of day-to-day life were never his strong suite.

  


“So I have a suggestion. We find a suitable town and… pause there for a while. Find some short term day jobs and behave like normal itinerant wanderers. Meanwhile, every town of reasonable size has got to have some kind of underground fighting ring, right?...”

  


“Oh, no.”

  


“… And that can’t be too difficult to… sniff out or whatever,” Foggy continued.

  


Matt face-palmed impressively.

  


“So we write Matt in there and do a couple of fights. Fleece them for everything they’ve got and run like bats out of hell.

  


Karen looks amused. “Sounds like a good plan.”

  


“No it doesn’t. It sounds like a terrible plan. I don’t want to be some kind of cage-fighter...”  
He sounds ambivalent, though. Foggy wonders how much that has to do with his father.  
“… and besides, how am I supposed to explain fighting while blind?”

  


Ha. He wasn’t saying no. He was looking for excused not to do it. There was a way around that. “You don't tell them.”

  


“I can’t wear glasses or a mask in a boxing ring, Foggy.”

  


“It probably won’t exactly be a boxing ring. You might be able to get away with mask. But I was thinking more along the lines of just not mentioning it. And if someone says something about your eyes looking weird you just act all wounded and go ‘ _I have a medical condition._ ’. I can guarantee you they’ll just drop it.”  
The social awkwardness defence always works.

  


“And when I can’t read the write-in sheet?”

  


Karen jumps in. “You can be an _illiterate_ prize-fighter.” She was clearly enjoying this.

  


“Great. My dad would be so proud.” Matt licked his lips, his eyes tracking as though he were looking for a way out. “There’s a limit to how effectively I can pretend to not be blind for any extent of time.”

  


“We can cover for you.” Karen said brightly. Foggy nodded.

  


“You two are very eager about this idea. Considering _I’m_ the one that’s going to be getting beaten up.”

  


“Dude, what are the odds that some guy from a small-town fight-club can beat you up?”  
Matt looked disgusted but didn’t answer. 

  


This was a good plan. Matt was going to need to get the punching people thing out of his system, one way or another. And it would be very suspicious if Daredevil suddenly started to roam the countryside. 

Foggy considered the situation. After Matt had started to recover properly the three of them had sat themselves down to have a proper conversation. They’d just been avoiding things until then.  
Matt had explain the how and why and Daredevil to Karen. It was a much more reasonable explanation than the one he’d gotten, but then that hadn’t exactly ben a reasonable conversation. Foggy had told Matt and Karen about what his thinking, or lack of it, had been when he’d… attacked Matt. 

  


He glanced over to him. Matt cracked the window and appeared to be listen to the rushing of air outside. He was OK. Deeply annoying from time to time, but OK.

  


Karen had confessed to some really dark shit that neither he nor Matt had seen coming. They’d taken too much for granted.  
They’d all talked through shock and distrust and hurt feelings and betrayal. For a couple of days afterwards they’d tip-toed around each other, not really knowing how to behave. But eventually they’d just adapted. They were used to being around each other, to caring for each other, and apparently that kind of bond was hard to break.  
Sometimes he still felt a flicker of fear and distrust, but he worked past it. Considering what he’d been forgiven, he would work past anything. He was home.

  


Matt seemed to come to a decision. “OK, we can try the boxing thing. But I was thinking if we really need money we could try to get paid for helping people?”

  


Typical.  
“Help people with what?”

  


“With whatever they need help with that can’t be solved by other means. I’m sure between the three of us we can figure something out.”

  


Foggy glanced back at Karen in the rear-view mirror. She seemed pleased, eyes sparking. “So, you’re saying if someone needs help with… something, that no one else can fix for them, and they somehow know that we are in the problem fixing business and can track us down, maybe they can hire us to help them with their ‘problems’.”

  


“It sounds ridiculous when you put it like that.”

  


Foggy grinned to himself. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  


For a moment the only sound was the rumble of the road under the wheels and the rush of air through the open window. Matt smiled over at him. “I think we’ll be OK.”

  


They probably would be. Foggy switched on the radio and kept on driving.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what it’s worth. I consider it canon that after some time of gallivanting about Having Adventures they are contacted by some guy Phil, who offers Matt a job. Matt of course turns him down because he doesn’t want to work for the Man, but the three of them actually want to go home, so Karen and Foggy persuade him to make a deal.  
> Cue some police files and records going missing, and they go back to New York and restart Nelson & Murdock. Brett is _livid_. Every now and again Daredevil does a job for SHIELD as a part-time agent. The end.


End file.
